MAN'S 

Leading 







MAURICE EOSSMAN’S 


LEADING 


k^MARY E‘ BALDWIN 

h 




NEW YORK 

JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER 
1889 


PZ3 


Copyright, 1888, 

BY 

MARY R. BALDWIN. 





} 


. • 'S-'t 



MAURICE ROSSMAN’S LEADING. 

CHAPTER I. 

Maurice Kossman was one of a large number 
of medical students whose diplomas gave them 
the right to offer themselves to a suffering world, 
which is ever looking and longing for the angel 
of mercy to move the healing waters. But Mau- 
rice Eossman had no real knowledge of these 
wants of the world, and certainly no conscious- 
ness of his own especial power as a healer. His 
physical make-up was after a perfect pattern 
and how could he be expected to understand that 
the majority of human machines were not in 
running order, and were wearing themselves out 
by useless friction ? 

Whilst this young doctor was enjoying his 
wander year, a message came to him from his 
aunt — a middle-aged lady, and a widow — who 
resided in one of the western towns of his native 
country, inviting him to Union City, and giving 
him a flattering view of the place as a starting 
point for his practice. He was in Europe when 
the letter came to him and when he read the ad- 
dress Doctor Maurice Eossman — the words, “Who 
is Doctor Eossman? ” rose to his lips, for he had 
not seen the title before since the day he re- 


8 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 


ceived his diploma. Like a flash the memory of 
that experience came to him, with all he had 
feared, and all he had hoped, and he felt almost 
quickened into enthusiasm for life’s purpose. 
He wandered out and sat under the Koman ilere 
with the foot-marks of the ages around him, and 
became absorbed in his reflections. A slight 
breeze lifted the letter and wafted it towards a bit 
of the ruin of a pillar, then he roused himself, 
caught the paper and read its contents through. 

He shuddered slightly as he finished it, al- 
though he was one who was not cursed with undue 
nervous sensitiveness ; but this idea of his aunt — a 
life for him in a crude western town — it was 
surely preposterous! He rose from his seat, 
looked down at the dust, old-time dust it was be- 
neath his feet, and speculated upon the ways of 
other feet that had trod the same ground before 
civilization had conceived of extending her pat- 
ronage, even to the continent, upon which this west- 
ern town had newly risen. He walked uneasily 
back to his room and began to arrange arguments 
against this strange proposal. “ I mean to cast 
my lot when the proper time comes,” said he 
aloud, and he stood as he spoke, in a graceful at- 
titude, and his tones mere modulated as if he 
were speaking to a listening critical audience, 
“ but I must cast it in a place where formative 
influences are not predominant ones; I must have 
helps to growth, crudeness in any form I cannot 
endure I ” And the young man took in the air 


Maurice rossman's leading. 9 

that was filled with the odor of age, as if old air, 
though laden with the seeds of death, was the 
very elixir of life to a man. 

His arguments he judged were conclusive, and 
with this thought he sat down and wrote a very 
kind, polite letter to his aunt, and felt for the 
hour, that the matter was at rest. But that night 
upon his bed a new train of thought took 
possession of his mind and seemed to carry 
him outside of the life of careless ease and 
to take him back into the past. He saw his 
father’s professional life as he had never before 
seen it, and it seemed to demand of him an an- 
swer for his own course, and to ask what the sec- 
ond Doctor Eossman was gaining for the career 
upon which he had pledged himself to enter. 
He seemed to hear again his father’s last words 
whispered in the far-away home, “Honor your 
profession, my son ! ” 

“ How shall I honor it ? When shall I be- 
gin? ’’ These were questions that offered them- 
selves with real force for the first time. And 
these questions from this hour pursued him 
night and day, wherever he wandered in the an- 
cient city, whether he looked upon statuary, 
paintings, or ruins, a voice from a past record 
of achievements — his father’s achievements — 
seemed to press him for a promise for his future. 

It happened through this new, and to him un- 
accountable influence, that in a week from the 
day that he wrote the letter to his aunt declining to 


10 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 

consider her proposition favorably, he wrote her 
another letter telling her that he should sail for 
home the next week and should probably start 
for Union City as soon as he had transacted nec- 
essary business in his native town. His sleep 
that night was not dreamless, and his vision 
showed him a little black board bearing the name, 
Maurice Rossman, M. D., swung by the west- 
ern wind. When the morning came and he 
wandered out to the Palatine and took in the 
grandeur of the old ruined Rome, and saw the 
suggestions of modern life in the newer Rome ; 
the contrast somehow seemed an offered prepara- 
tion for his coming crude experience in Union 
City. 

But why should a young man, without pecu- 
niary needs, without enthusiasms, and seemingly 
without a sacrificial spirit, pledge himself to an 
unpleasant path when many avenues that prom- 
ised delightful experiences in professional service 
would have opened themselves to his feet? 
What was the influence that forced him to his 
decision ? Something surely, back of his aunt’s 
wish! Who can understand the secret train that 
is laid to fire a soul with a purpose to do a pe- 
culiar work in the world? 

Maurice Rossman had no clear sense of the 
nature of the motives that were leading him 
away from his preferences, and if he dreamed of 
martyrdom for himself, he saw as many of us do 
in our projected sacrifices — the stake piled with 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 


11 


the fagots, but deliverance before the fire was 
kindled. Or if he went further — he might have 
composed the death-song, but had no thought 
of the death-agony. He took in at the last mo- 
ment all that was possible of the impressions of 
Eoman grandeur and then went forward to what 
seemed a kind of fate. 

The weary ocean days were at last over, and 
then he found himself at the gate of his old 
home, looking into the front yard where so 
many times before he had looked when hurrying 
home from school and college to spend his va- 
cations in the spot dearest to him on earth. He 
entered the yard, walked slowly up the path, 
and raised the old brass knocker. Its clang 
brought the servant to the door — ^he asked for 
his sister — Miss Rossman; took a seat in the 
wide hall and brought back the days when his 
father. Doctor Rossman, was the dependence of 
the sick, and the poor, and the needy. He saw 
them waiting in rows for a word from the man 
who was a physical and mental strength to 
them, each chair was filled by his imagination, 
with a patient. 

In one sat hysterical Haney, who was sure 
to go out, with her features relaxed ; next was 
rheumatic Tim, who seemed to have less of a 
limp when he left the doctor’s presence than 
when he entered. There was the wife of the 
sot — Jack Downs, who whispered her trouble, 
and then received such a benediction that she 


12 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 

was able to take up ber life-burden and bear 
it with a lighter spirit until she came to another 
hill of difficulty when she returned to her helper 
who interpreted so well for her the help of the 
Mighty One. Surely the first Doctor Kossman’s 
service in his profession was of a peculiar na- 
ture ! 

But the door opened and a lady who might 
have been forty, entered. She gave a little ex- 
clamation of astonishment, and then came for- 
ward to greet the young man. She led him 
into the old sitting-room where from the open 
door he could see the apple-orchard and the gar- 
den. A flood of memories rushed over him, and 
again he saw the town whither he was bound, 
in all its newness, saw it all in imagination af- 
ter old Enrope — and his old home. 

The woman by his side was many years his 
senior, they were not children of one mother. 
Doctor Eossman was a widower with a grown 
daughter when he was married to the young 
creature who became the mother of Maurice. 
There had never been a sympathy between the 
brother and sister beyond what kinship required. 
The daughter had inherited the father’s sterling 
integrity without the little adornments of char- 
acter that had made him so useful and attractive. 
To live an upright busy life was her aim, and the 
questions of the day and the revelations in the 
world of art, and the restless ambitions of 
woman in these directions did not trouble her. 


V 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 13 

The old homestead had been willed to her, and 
she had enough money safely invested, to insure 
a comfortable living for herself and something 
to dispense in her charitable visits. According 
to her mental standard, and spiritual vision 
she kept up the traditional Kossman dignity 
but she could never possess the peculiar some- 
thing call it influence, or inspiration as we may 
for which some lives are known, and which in 
Doctor Eossman had been called by his towns- 
people — kindliness, but there were a few that 
never gave it a name because it was of that 
subtile nature which placed it beyond the reach 
of classification if it was rightly appreciated. 

“ Amanda ” began Maurice breaking the silence 
at last, “ I did not write you my plans, and you 
may be astonished to hear that I am going to 
Union City to begin my practice.” 

Maurice Eossman could not find the courage 
to tell this practical woman how he had been 
led to this decision, even if he could have ex- 
plained the influences that had been working 
towards the final conclusion, he knew she would 
not have seen things with his eyes, and would 
as usual have called him a “ visionary boy.” 
She expressed her surprise that he should go so 
far from home to find a suitable place for settling, 
but the thought of the long miles that would 
separate them, gave her no pang for were they 
not already at antipodes through the distance 
between their natures ? 


14 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

Miss Eossman however, as she looked at the 
tall figure of her brother and noticed how hand- 
some he had grown since he had last stood in 
the old home, could not help seeing that he re- 
sembled their father in many respects, and that 
the same winning expression was about the 
well-formed mouth — for his father’s sake she 
would always love him, and when he had left 
her side and passed into the library and she 
was alone, the room felt empty without his pres- 
ence. 

Maurice Eossman stood looking at the rows 
of books that had been his father’s. They were 
old books worn and faded, by use and time, and 
in the march of science, many of their theories 
had been left far behind, and yet they had been 
mental helps to his father, who had never be- 
come a slave to their formula, whilst he was 
always ready to bow before the conceptions of 
those who had themselves bowed a willing ear 
to the inspired voices of their age. Long he 
remained standing before these book-shelves 
hearing as he had heard in Eome, the words, 
“ Honor your profession my son ! ” 

These books had been left by a will to 
himself, for this they would always be treas- 
ured by him. He left the library and went out 
to the garden, then he visited the orchard where 
he found the old rustic seat which from early 
spring on to the last autumn day had been an 
inviting resting place, a spot too where much 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 15 

of his planning had been done, where his young 
joys had been lived over and where tears of sor- 
row had been allowed to flow unseen. As he 
took the seat made sacred to him through asso- 
ciations with his heart’s deepest experiences, he 
felt something that was so new and strange to 
him that it startled him. Was it a consciousness 
that a .change had been wrought within, or was 
it the knowledge emphasized by this last visit to 
the old retreat, that he was burning the last 
bridge behind him ? 

Maurice Kossman was looking with new eyes 
upon old scenes. The twilight came on and 
Miss Eossman came out in search of him. He 
heard the sound of her steps, and rose to 
meet her, perhaps down deep within him there 
was a yearning for a tender feminine sympathy, 
if so he made no sign, and his sister, if she 
longed to tell the handsome young man of her 
regrets that life’s duties must separate them, per- 
haps forever, did not express her thought; 
she had trained herself through the long years 
to a silence upon affairs that touched the deepest 
feelings, and her pride would not allow her to 
change her practice for even a peculiar occasion. 
She took her half-brother’s offered arm and the 
housemaid saw them walking in a stately way 
up from the orchard path, and said to herself — 
“ Well, I never! I should think she might cry a 
little or look as if she were sorry that he was 
going. Tall and grand as he is too. Too fine 


16 MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 

for this town, but yet it would have been pleasant 
to have had another Doctor Kossman.” 

The next morning before the dew had passed 
from the flowers the young man took the road 
towards the cemetery. He reached the family 
burial lot, and stood with uncovered head above 
the two graves. The violets were in bloom and 
he felt as he saw them a thrill, which might have 
been gratitude for their unconscious tribute to 
the memory of his dear ones, and as he stooped 
to touch the simple blossoms, and remembered 
how near to nature his father had lived, he 
thought it might be that in the vast, unex- 
plored domain of spirit there might be conditions 
that would allow the recognition of the violets’ 
faithful, loving service. 

He read aloud the words cut into the stone at 
the head of his mother’s resting place, the 
mother of whom he had no distinct recollection, 
Elsie^ wife of Maurice Hossmarij aged 18 years. 
A flash of light across my way'' He bowed his 
head and thought of his father’s long years of de- 
votion to the memory of the young wife, he won- 
dered what peculiarity there had been in this 
marriage relation that death itself had seemed 
to essentially strengthen it, and that had made 
the long years empty, to the faithful heart, of 
other feminine attractions. 

“I wonder how many women there are in the 
world,” whispered Maurice, “ who could inspire 
a like devotion ? ” 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 17 

Maurice Rossman, the younger, had no real ac- 
quaintance with woman’s character, he had 
known nothing of a mother’s influence, and had 
gained nothing from his taciturn, practical sister 
to help him in his judgments in this respect. 
In early youth he had been shy of the opposite 
sex, and during his college-days had — what 
shall I say, missed or escaped all love entangle- 
ments ? and so at the age of twenty-eight he was a 
stranger to the wide and mysterious region where 
sooner or later the masculine experience must 
enter to find blessing or cursing upon itself. 

“ A very remarkable woman my mother must 
have been,” he said to himself as his eyes rested 
with a tearful gaze upon the epitaph that the 
worshipful husband had written upon the loss 
that had been to him life-long. He could not 
recognize the possibility that his father’s loyalty 
might have been a necessity to his own great 
soul, that having sworn protection and love 
for a delicate clinging creature, he had found this 
purpose enlarged through the very giving, daily 
and hourly, for the happiness of the one who de- 
pended entirely upon her husband’s smiles and 
wisdom for her joy. Neither could he under- 
stand then, how much of his father’s enthusiasm 
for his profession had come through the influ- 
ences of the resistless barrier that Death had 
placed against the mighty current of his love. 
The force within him made another curren- 
2 


18 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

and spread itself wide, and then grew deep and 
quiet. 

He stood long beside the graves, then gave 
them a farewell look and slowly went out of the 
yard asking himself the question, “ Have I made 
a mistake ? Should I have taken up the work 
here and tried to be be something of a blessing 
to the people?” Maurice Rossman found 
himself looking back with his new eyes 
upon that past self which had never cared to 
question its responsibility to others, and had not 
comprehended the wide meaning of the profes- 
sion he had chosen, or rather of the profession that 
had been chosen for him. Just as he was saying 
within himself, “ I could never have filled his 
place,” he met an old man who offered him a 
kindly greeting, and who looked earnestly into 
his face and said . “ I can see your father’s look 
about you; you have his strong build, and you 
have his head, but I cannot see our Doctor Ross- 
man quite. Let me see, your father must have 
been about your age when he first came to us. 
We were a little shy of having him for diffi- 
cult cases at first, but it didn’t take long for him 
to prove to us that he was master of the situa- 
tion, and he grew into our confidence wonder- 
fully. I can’t explain it all. I think his real 
power came to him after the death of your 
mother. It is said that a woman either makes 
or breaks a man. A woman both broke and 
made your father. You are going to be a doctor 


MAVRICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 19 

I suppose ? ” the old man asked in a manner 
that made the young man very uncomfortable. 

“ I shall try,’^ answered the young doctor. 

“ Well, yes, you can try. A good number try 
every year, but few succeed as your father did in 
helping people, mind and body, most of them 
stop at the body, your father had a conscience 
— he couldn’t.” 

The old man passed on, having no idea of the 
effect of his plain speech upon the son of him 
whom the town had reverenced, and still held in 
grateful memory. “ A conscience,” and “help- 
ing people — mind and body,” these words re- 
mained with him as he left his native town and 
went forth to meet a new life for which he felt 
all unprepared. 

It was a cloudy, disagreeable day on which 
he reached Union City, where he found his aunt 
waiting at the railroad station for him, with her 
carriage. 

“Ah Maurice,” she said, as she greeted him, 
“I can see your father again in you, it makes 
me sad and it also makes me glad ; ” and the 
young doctor bowed and offered his thanks. 

“ He has more dignity and less of his father’s 
buoyancy than I supposed,” she said within 
herself, she did not know that her nephew, when 
he accepted her invitation hid his old individu- 
ality under his new purpose. When they were 
turning into the street upon which her home 


20 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 


was Mrs. Thorn remarked — “I could have wished 
a brighter sky for your arrival Maurice. I know of 
course you will not expect to find Italy here, but 
really I have known those who have travelled and 
have been enraptured with that fair land to say 
that our sunsets were of the Italian sort, of 
course I do not know whether they were right, 
you will have a chance to decide.” The young 
man replied with his usual courtesy, yet he did 
not speak with enthusiasm nor even with a hope- 
ful tone, for the crudeness of the ambitious west- 
ern city had already begun to exasperate him, 
and while his aunt was admiring the finely- 
formed young man, he was suffering that 
first sickening sense of strangeness that sensi- 
tive ones, cast into new conditions must always 
feel. 

He retired to his room early that evening 
without a desire to prove the western sunsets by 
his Italian memories, and sitting long at his 
window he tried to realize that he had cut him- 
self loose from the past and that he was about 
to begin his life of work. As the darkness 
gathered about him he seemed again to stand by 
his father’s bedside to receive his last blessing, 
and to hear the words, “ Honor your profession 
my son I ” and from out the loneliness and the 
night of his soul he cried — “Oh father am I to 
honor it here ? ” 

Did he expect a speedy answer ? Would his 
undisciplined nature have been able to interpret 


MAVRICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 21 

it if it had come to him then, this answer for 
which he longed ? 

The next morning, as Mrs. Thorn opened her 
window towards the east and saw what the 
morning promised, she rejoiced on account of 
her brother’s son. Maurice met her upon the 
piazza and as the sun began to glorify the dis- 
tant hills his aunt remarked. “ Union City is 
not built upon seven hills like Rome, but it has 
nevertheless its hills, and you see they are not 
altogether unattractive.” 

The young man was in spite of himself pleased 
with the sight. Mrs. Thorn noticing his pleasure 
began with rare tact and ready imagination to 
fill in the picture. “ It will not be long now,” 
she said, “ before those hills will be crowned 
with trees, and homes will spring up here and 
there ; it is an inspiring thing, this creation of 
homes Maurice, my husband was an enthusiast 
for progress as related to homes. He spent his 
strength and his life for this young town through 
loneliness, and loss he worked and hoped. Your 
uncle was not a successful man as the business 
men of this city name success, but in the highest 
sense he surely was, and if this place has moral 
standards which it holds up to new-comers, it is 
because he won many a battle for truth and 
honor in its earlier days. Men of will, ability 
and enthusiasm may glorify a profession Maurice, 
and we know youth may be influenced when 
age will not be. I have wanted to talk with you 


22 MAURICE ROSSMAIPS LEADING, 

about this at the start. Young men from the 
East so often take up life here in the W est in a care- 
less way, indeed I believd they often come in order 
to find relief from that pressure which the com- 
petitive struggling of old cities brings to a young 
man who has ambitions. I have known young 
men to come here with the apparent thought of 
living below the standard which an older place 
would require. That is a great mistake — we 
need the best talent^ the highest aspiration^ the 
truest living here, where things are in a forma- 
tive state. We want our pattern to be perfect 
Maurice. And the highest effort will find itself 
rewarded by the consciousness that it has helped to 
raise standards for a part of our country that is 
destined to become a giant in power! I did 
not mean to give a lecture,” she added, smiling 
as she met her nephew’s glance, “ but the truth 
is the subject occupies my mind so fully that it 
rises to my lips — perhaps too often.” 

The next evening Mrs. Thorn received a num- 
ber of friends whom she had invited to meet 
her nephew, and Maurice was critically obser- 
vant of these guests, for he was anxious to learn 
as soon as possible what the character of the 
best society in Union City really was. He had 
short conversations with nearly all of the small 
company, and was much surprised at what he 
learned with regard to the professional and busi- 
ness capacity of the place; he found too that 
the majority of the professions were represented 


MAVRICE ROBSMAN^S LEADINQ. 25 

by eastern men. He discovered also, in talking 
with the ladies that womanly refinements and 
aspirations were not wanting, on the whole he 
was astonished at what he saw and heard, for 
the young man had made up his mind to meet 
newness in its most repulsive form. 

He noticed particularly a young lady, who 
was present with her mother. She had a quiet 
manner and in talking with her he found that 
she possessed both insight and judgment, 
with a knowledge of what was best in litera- 
ture, art, and music. She drew from him 
facts and observations with regard to his travels, 
and showed an interest and enthusiasm that bore 
no relation to the fashionable worships which 
exalts all that is of the old world, and makes 
heroes of all who have visited it. 

Her mother seemed like one who had received 
many of life’s best gifts, and having been forced 
to accept meaner ones afterwards, and trying to 
do so gracefully, had not wholly succeeded in 
the trying. He could not, as he sat in his room 
that night get rid of the impression which these 
two, especially, had made upon him. The next 
morning as he discussed with his aunt, the guests, 
he found that his surmise with regard to the 
mother was correct. 

“ I know both the mother and daughter,” Mrs. 
Thorn said, “ I learned through my husband who 
had at one time charge of their money affairs, 
much that aroused my admiration as well 


^ MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

as my sympathy for them. You are right 
ill supposing that they have seen better 
days, the mother is a native of New England, 
after her marriage she went to New York with 
her husband, and lived there until a few years 
ago when the husband with his wife and child 
moved to this place. He was a broken down 
merchant, and had, I think, an idea of retrieving 
his fortunes here, or it may be, he wished to 
bury his failure and misfortune away from those 
he had known. In either case, he was disap- 
pointed in the results, and he died a discouraged 
man. The wife was prostrated by the shock 
and has not been herself since. 1 think I can 
see that her mind is gradually weakening, and 
sometimes I fancy it is distressing her daughter. 
Did you notice her anxious glances toward her 
mother ? ” 

“ Yes ; ” answered Maurice, “ but not so much 
as I noticed the sadness that is like a kind of 
mist over an expression naturally cheerful and 
sweet. She seems to be a young lady of more 
than average mental force, and has her en- 
thusiasms too. In fact, I thought her character 
worthy of study. You may not know,” he 
added, “ that I have not been much in the so- 
ciety of ladies and a knowledge of their thoughts 
and ways was not in my curriculum. I suppose 
it is as well to begin the study now as ever. I 
think I shall probably have, at least for a few 
months spare time on my hands for this or any 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 26 

other amusement I may fancy.” The young 
Doctor spoke in a playful tone, hut his aunt’s 
reply was given quietly, if not seriously — 
“ I think your profession will force you to the 
study.” 

At the end of a week, Maurice Eossman, M. 
D.,” was in gilt upon a black board that hung be- 
fore the young doctor's office upon the principal 
street of the place. His books were arranged in 
rows, around the room, the new bindings be- 
side the old ones from his father’s library. 

He had ample time to speqd with these books 
for his professional services were not in great de- 
mand during those first weeks of his experience 
as an M. D. The days passed slowly, and were 
endured rather than lived, for it is one thing to 
form a purpose, and quite another to try and 
achieve it ; until one morning in midsummer a 
hasty summons came for him to attend a case in 
a locality called the flat^ where those people of 
the busy young city who found life’s struggle for 
the necessities, hardest, lived. 

A boy had broken his arm, his right arm, the 
messenger said. 

Doctor Eossman felt a sort of thrill at the 
summons : “ he rose and prepared to follow the 
message-bearer. He reached the little house. 
The newness had not been worn away by the 
weather, the unpainted boards seemed to stare 
at nature — and nature could not keep herself in 
countenance for man was a hindrance, rather than 


26 


MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING. 


a help in the poor quarter. Like a flash the 
brown cottages of the poor in older places came 
to his view. Ah, this dreadful crudeness ; can I 
ever endure it ? he whispered to himself, even 
while his professional honor was calling to him 
to prove himself like a man. 

He entered the room where the boy lay — the 
first person upon whom he cast his eyes was the 
young lady who had interested him at his aunt’s 
first tea-party, after his arrival. The poor mother 
had given herself up to her grief, and was moan- 
ing, “What shall we do ? It is his right arm, 
and he was beginning to be such a help ! ” 

The responsibility for the emergencies of the 
case seemed to rest upon the young lady, who had 
been the boy’s teacher, instead of upon the mother. 

Doctor Eossman nerved himself for what he 
felt would be his opportunity of initiating him- 
self into service professionally, to prove also to 
himself that his medical studies and student 
practice in hospitals were of avail in his life- 
work. He drew mentally upon his stored wis- 
dom, tried to call to mind similar cases, thought 
he remembered one, and the specialist’s decision 
— acting upon this suggestion he signified his 
purpose to amputate the arm. 

“ Oh, can’t you save it ! You must save it ! ” 
the poor mother cried, and the boy, with tremb- 
ling voice, whispered, “ Sir, I can’t make a liv- 
ing for mother, if you take it off I ” 

But Doctor Eossman had made up his mind 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 27 

not to be swerved from duty by the cries of 
women and cliildren, who in the future might re- 
proach him for his mistake ; he seemed to hear 
again the words of the medical professor, “You 
must be able to listen to the voice of duty above 
the pleadings of grief I ” 

He said to the boy, “ You will thank me for 
it some day, I believe ! ” He saw upon the suf- 
ferer’s face signs of the coming struggle, and then 
he heard the young lady whisper, “ Doctor Eoss- 
man, you think there is not a chance for him 
without the loss of his arm ? ” 

The color came quickly to the young Doctor’s 
face, while a feeling of resentment, vague to him, 
rose in his heart at what seemed to the confident 
young practitioner an unwarrantable interference 
with his judgment with regard to the case. But 
something in the expression of the young lady’s 
face, or it may be something in her tone lingered 
with him after the words had been spoken, a 
sort of baffled look came upon his own face, he 
turned and walked to the window that gave a 
view of the poor parched yard ; he came back to 
the bedside and said to Miss Emory, “ I must go 
back to my office, T will not begone long, please 
remain while I am gone.” 

Did the young man wish to consult his books 
that he asked this liberty from duty when the 
demand was so great ? 

No ; Doctor Kossman had no thought of snatch- 
ing from the wisdom of his library, aught that 


28 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING, 

he might have missed in the years when his op- 
portunities were equal to his needs. The truth 
was — he was hurrying away from human pres- 
ence — from the influence of Miss Emory’s per- 
sonality, especially to find alone, if possible, his 
mental bearings. 

“ Am I so weak as to have my judgment af- 
fected by a pleading voice and expressive eyes? ’* 
he asked, in a kind of scorn of himself. He 
wiped the damp from his forehead, intellect and 
heart seemed to agonize together, pleading for 
light. Like a flash came back the words, “ Doc- 
tor Kossman, are you sure there is no chance for 
him without the loss of his arm ? and then like a 
flash too came a memory of a similar case in a 
hospital where a noted surgeon had taken the 
one chance, and had succeeded in saving the 
boy’s arm with his life. He ran across to the 
drug store, gave directions for compounding a 
medicine, and when it was ready hurried with it 
out of the store. 

He entered the cottage with something like 
calmness. Miss Emory, who waited by the bed- 
side, gave him a questioning look. He answered 
it with a steady, manly glance as he remarked, 
“ I have decided to give the arm a chance, I shall 
use every possible means to save it ! ” 

The mother was effusive in her thanks, and 
the patient said nothing, but tears coursed down 
his face as the doctor ceased speaking. 

Miss Emory walked to the window and 


MAURICE ROSSMAJTS LEADING. 


29 


looked out. She stood quietly thus for a few 
miiiutes, and the physician caring for the boy did 
not seem to notice her presence. She at length 
slipped out of the room after telling the mother 
to call her whenever she might be needed. 

The night drew on and Maurice Eossman still 
watched by the boy’s side. On until the morn- 
ing came he stayed at his post. The boy was 
sleeping at last and he left him in charge of the 
mother and took his way towards his home. He 
went wearily up to his room, and threw himself 
upon the bed. He felt somehow weak and hum- 
bled. “ My first professional humiliation has 
come through a woman” he whispered to him- 
himself. He recalled what he had said to his 
aunt about making a study of women. He 
blushed as he thought of his first lesson in that 
study, he fell asleep at last and dreamed 
that he was in Eome standing before the 
the picture of a Madonna, and in the dream 
experiences crowded themselves in reckless 
confusion ; he heard the unfortunate boy’s 
cry to him to save his arm, and then his moth- 
er’s pleadings. Looking again into the face of 
the Madonna, he seemed to recognize the earnest 
expression of Miss Emory’s, then the sadness and 
and dignity and sweetness of the two faces 
seemed that of one face and held him by a strange 
fascination. 

The sun was shining upon his bed when he 
awoke. His first sense of consciousness brought 


30 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 


a pang to him. Then his thoughts flew to- 
wards the sick boy. He arose and dressed him- 
self, and went down stairs to look for his aunt. 
He was filled with a longing for sympathy. 
His first impulse was to tell her of his experi- 
ence of the day before, as a boy might tell his 
mother of his first trouble. But he told her noth- 
ing of the affair so important perhaps to his 
future professional course, except what seemed 
due to her as his father’s sister. 

He passed his morning meal in a kind of ab- 
straction, quite foreign to his usual manner, then 
went down to his office and writing a sentence 
upon the slate hanging upon his door, took his 
way towards the cottage upon the “ flat.” He 
found great encouragement in the boy’s condi- 
tion, and received from the mother grateful words 
for trying to save the arm, with a guilty feeling 
that shaped itself into the self-accusation, “ You 
would have maimed the boy for lifeifyour hand 
had not been stayed through another’s words ; 
you have no right to the praise or gratitude.” 
He examined the patient carefully, gave his ord- 
ers quietly and then returned to his office. He 
took from his father’s books a volume — an old 
one — and sat down to study one of its chapters, 
but he could not fix his attention upon the sub- 
ject presented, indeed! all abstract truth and 
science seemed inadequate to his especial need. 
He wondered whether his father had ever come 
so near to sacrificing a chance for a patient. He 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 31 

wondered, too, how it was possible for doctors 
to bold tlieir profession so lightly when such 
awful responsibilities were entailed by it. He 
was astonished more than he could possibly have 
expressed, that he himself should have come to 
his graduation days without having realized it. 
With this first real comprehension of duty and 
responsibility came a longing for those first care- 
less tourist days, before he had heard the echo of 
his father’s words from out the past, “ Honor 
your profession, my son ! ” Just here a man came 
into the office for consultation, which helped 
him in saving him from his useless painful 
brooding over what it was too late to change. 

The night came and he again went to the 
“flat.” 

“ I’ve been thinking,” said the mother, “ that 
I’d better send for Miss Emory to-night. Jim 
wants her, Jim does, he says she’s so soft in 
taking care of him, and she’s used to sick peo- 
ple I should think ; she was his teacher, too.” 

“Yes; yes,” replied the doctor, “if she can 
come it would certainly be well.” 

“Would you be so kind as to stop and ask 
her on your way back ? ” asked the woman. 

Doctor Kossman being a gentleman could not 
refuse, even if this freedom with his rights 
annoyed him. He could be errand boy if the 
conditions of his professional practice demanded 
it, he could surrender his fine reserve if he could 
gain again his self respect, and then he felt that 


32 MAVRICE ROSSMAITS LEADING, 

lie could not give the lady his errand without 
offering to be her escort to the cottage. It 
would be an awkward thing for him, at least, 
but however, he had promised to deliver the 
message. 

He reached the modest cottage upon which 
the vines climbed, he noticed how refinement and 
carefulness had seemed to aid each other in the 
attempt to beautify the yard. He trembled as 
he rang the door-bell. He was conducted into 
the small parlor where the daughter sat with a 
book from which she had 'been reading to her 
mother ; bow he told his errand, and how the 
conversation led on to medicine and kindred 
subjects he could never recall, though many 
times afterwards he tried. When he bowed 
himself out of the room he felt that he was leav- 
ing a fine atmosphere and the sound of a low, 
sweet voice; he felt also that this young creature 
who had taken the right to question the wisdom 
of his first professional decision did not utterly 
despise him, he repeated her words to himself, 
words which she had given in reply to a remark 
which he had himself offered about a feeling of 
growing responsibility that was a pain to him — 
“It has seemed to me always that a physician’s 
honesty of purpose — that is, his clear determina- 
tion to search towards the farthest possible 
light, and to be led on in this light would 
be a safeguard against criminal mistakes.” 
The little apology, too, he could repeat in his 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 33 

mind — “ But excuse me, Doctor Kossman, pre- 
senting theories of this sort to a physician must 
seem like carrying coals to Newcastle,” the light 
laugh following the words seemed like a ripple 
upon deep water. 

As he walked on, it seemed to him that a new 
electric current had been established between 
his soul and certain forces with which hitherto 
he had known no relation. He wondered in 
what lay the power of this girl’s mind, over 
his own. He heard again the words and re- 
called the pleading look which had held him 
from making a life-cripple of Jim Brown. He 
shuddered as he imagined the possible result of 
his carelessness. 

His mind wandered in doubt, old standards, 
old habits of thought were swept away, his in- 
most soul cried out for a firm hand to clasp his 
own, and lead him on. 


3 


34 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 


CHAPTER II. 


The new doctor of Union City could not re- 
main long unnoticed after the news of his family 
prestige, of his educational advantages and of 
his travels in Europe had reached the ear of the 
public. 

The city, using the watchfulness characteristic 
of a newly-settled place, determined to discover 
whether the young man was likely to prove a 
worthy factor in the city’s progress. What was 
inherited talent, or the sight of Roman ruins, 
what all the wisdom gathered from the highest 
sources if these could not be utilized for the 
city’s needs? 

So reasoned the spirit of progress in Union 
City, and in a sense it had the right to regard 
thus all who pitched their professional or busi- 
ness tents within its borders. 

The demand that a new-comer should prove 
himself was not unreasonable; the mistake lay 
in asking for speedy results and in requiring 
overwhelming practical evidence of ability. 
This demand has been the cry of the multitude, 
which has meant persecution of patient souls 
ever since a turbulent throng clamored that the 
God-man should show Himself to them if He 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 


35 


were the Christ. All who follow on in the path 
of true greatness must be willing to bide their 
time. No voice from the world, no temptation 
towards self-aggrandizement will lead a truly 
great soul into the fatal snare of premature self- 
assertion. 

Jim’s mother had given in detail the whole af- 
fair of the broken limb, the doctor’s diagnosis 
of the case, the change in his opinion caused by 
Miss Emory’s protest — indeed nothing had been 
left out by the voluble woman, who did not hesi- 
tate to declare that it was Jim’s teacher rather 
than the doctor who had saved the limb. As sur- 
geons, among a certain class, not surely the 
wisest, are considered as heartless butchers who 
find their chief delight in cutting and sawing, 
it was not strange that the new doctor was not 
at once created a hero in their eyes. Miss 
Emory was astonished and perplexed at certain 
things which came to her ears, she heard with 
pain, words that showed that she was exalted in 
the public opinion and the doctor was abased. 
She felt for the first time the limitations of her 
sex, as she found it impossible to defend the 
new doctor, as she felt he ought to be defended. 
He had shown himself fallible surely, but had 
tacitly acknowledged his fallibility, had con- 
sented to yield a professional decision to a non- 
professional suggestion, a something that it does 
not need a very close acquaintance with human 
nature to show, is as hard a test as can be re- 


36 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

quired of some self-confident, inexperienced 
physicians. 

As the weeks passed Miss Emory found her 
fame getting to be almost unbearable. “ Y ou saved 
Jim’s life, I hear,” “ You kept that doctor from 
cutting off that boy’s arm,” or “ You stopped 
that upstart in his bloody work.” She was 
obliged to hear all this, and when she protested, 
she was answered, “Oh, you’re altogether too 
modest,” or the coarser reply, “ The women will 
stand up for the doctors always, when they’re 
young and handsome especially.” 

She could have borne this, but the idea that 
one wfio might have become a power in his pro- 
fession should be crushed on account of a first 
mistake, this, to her sense of justice, seemed a 
great wrong. It became more and more evident 
to her that if Doctor Eossman became a power 
in Union City, it must be through a force 
mighty enough to sweep away a vast amount of 
debris, which a current of prejudice had left 
upon the face of opinion. 

Doctor Eossman, although answering every 
call to duty, and attending to the slightest details 
of his profession with scrupulous care, was liv- 
ing a life of introspection, and was unconscious 
of this growing feeling against him, and there- 
fore the temptation to prove himself to an im- 
patient public was not thrust upon him. It was 
at this stage of his experience that he received 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 37 

a letter from an old class-mate. It ran in this 
way: 

“My Dear Maurice, 

Or should I say — Maurice Koss- 
man, M. D.? I find myself wondering again and 
again how the handsome, fastidious and refined 
man of our class is getting on in his missionary 
field ; for positively, Maurice, I cannot call your 
field of labor anything but heathen ground. The 
boys who have been honored with a line from 
you don’t speak of you by the old college name 
any longer, and their faces wear an awed ex- 
pression when they offer an item of intelligence 
from you, all of which piques my curiosity. 

“ I should really like to know. Doctor, whether 
you are completely changed from the merry take- 
the-world-as-it-goes-fellow to the — well, I cannot 
imagine what. Doctor Eossman. Send me a pic- 
ture of yourself, and a glance, I think, at the 
eyes, or at the forehead will enlighten me. If I 
see not the straying brown lock of the old days, 
I shall say to myself if Maurice could train that 
wayward brown lock into uniformity, why then 
he could train his own splendid nature into 
straight-line-duty. And then I shall drop a tear 
for the past and bury it away from sight. 

“ Law is not so exacting in its demands, that 
I cannot find time to read a good novel now and 
then, and I have taken up Hawthorne’s works 
again, and I am reading them with greater in- 
terest than ever before. The last month I have 


38 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

been deep in tbe ‘ Marble Faun.’ I think I ac- 
cept this masterpiece, as the author hoped it 
would be received, in a sort of dreary way, on the 
whole ; but the moral, Maurice — when 1 discov- 
ered that I said, ‘ Poor Donatello, and poor Maur- 
ice,’ in the same breath. 

“ Pardon me my friend, for I do not mean to 
say that my old college chum with his splendid 
abilities and large opportunities bears any resem- 
blance to the Faun, except as the genial natures 
of the two seem similar ; but the truth which 
the author presents, that human beings of Dona- 
tello’s character have no place in a world 
where life has grown so sadly serious; and that 
such must change their nature or perish through 
it, was suggestive to me as was that other aw- 
ful truth that the Faun perpetrated a great crime, 
and the remorse gnawed into his soul and devel- 
oped many high capabilities, moral and intel- 
lectual. Not that our Maurice could be guilty 
of a crime — that I consider not possible, but I 
can imagine that a certain kind of sorrow, or a 
sudden revelation with regard to his relation to 
life’s duties might work a great change in the 
one who was the sunshine of his class. Perhaps 
the matter-of-fact Western life presented suddenly 
to one of his nature would seem such a decided 
contrast to his past experience that to his fastid- 
ious nature it would be a great shock. 

But I will confess that this letter has a deeper 
purpose than banter and will proceed to explain : 


MAVRICE ROSSMAHrS LEADING. 


A friend here told me a story a few days ago 
which has roused all my slumbering knightly 
impulses until I am much more inclined to 
dream of knight-errantry than to pore over Black- 
stone ; not that I am in that state that I would 
not know a wind-mill if I see one, but I find my- 
self repeating passages from the Lady of Shalott 
and for a week I have been singing by snatches — 

‘All in the blue unclouded weather, 

Thick-jeweird shone the saddle leather, 

The helmet and the helmet feather 
Burn’d like one burning flame together 
As he rode down to Camelot.’ 

I see you smile as you read these lines and 
don’t deny that you have a curiosity to know the 
story that roused this longing in me for knightly 
defence against wrong. I will relieve your 
suspense and tell the story. 

When I say that its heroine with her mother 
is a resident of the town where you now are, 
you will see why I tell my story to you. My 
mother was a friend of this Emory family of 
whom I am about to speak, when they lived in 
New York. She knew of their circumstances 
and particular trials. The young man in the 
case, for there is a young man of course, is one 
over whom Mr. Emory had a care equal to a 
father’s until he became of age. When this 
young man was in his twenty-fourth year and 
in the last one of his college course, Mr. Em- 
ory failed in business. He had invested a sum 
of money belonging to his charge, who was the 


40 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

son of an old college friend, and this money he 
felt he must replace. Giving up his possessions to 
satisfy his creditors he found, while conscience and 
purse were both lightened, a heavy load upon 
his heart on account of the wife and daughter 
who must descend from luxury to a state of 
comparative poverty. In this emergency the 
wife and daughter proved themselves, as I have 
heard my mother tell with enthusiasm again and 
again, strong enough to be a help and a comfort 
to the man who had been so crushed by adverse 
circumstances. You have probably seen these 
ladies by this time and know, perhaps, how they 
are situated financially. I am told by a friend 
here that the daughter taught at one time in 
Union City. But what I wished most to communi- 
cate with regard to the matter is this — the young 
man in the affair stands in the relation of lover 
to the young lady. 

“He knew of the losses of the family, he 
knew of their sacrifices in order to return 
every cent that was due him; he knows how 
the daughter has tried to help in ways that 
were new and hard for one so tenderly reared, 
yet he did not refuse the last cent and allowed 
this young creature to bear her burdens instead 
of marrying her and taking care of her as he 
should have done as soon as he had received his 
ministerial license. 

“ The fact is, as soon as I learned the princi- 
pal circumstances of the affair, I determined to 


MAURICE ROSSMAITS tEADING. 41 

make a study of him, and I have not missed a 
Sunday at service over where he is preaching. 
When 1 decided to watch the young divine, I 
said to myself — ‘ Whatever you do, do fair,’ and 
I’ve tried to hold to that purpose. In concliisidn 
I would say that the arguments are all in, and I 
am ready to declare that he is a deceiver, of 
the self-deceived sort. 

“He is a popular preacher, and an idol with 
the fair sex. He has the tastes and manner of 
a cultivated gentleman, is extremely punctilious 
with regard to society laws and at the same time 
he affects asceticism. I think this the secret of 
his popularity. He seems in effect to be saying — 
‘I could shine in society if I would, but I choose 
not to do so.’ 

“ But the truth is he seems to be counting his 
laurels or anticipating fresh ones continually, 
and the fair creatures whose souls are bowing 
before him to receive a benediction feed his van- 
ity and lead him farther and farther away from 
sacrificial and noble service. But the charge 
that my judgment brings against him is that he 
cannot be true to, cannot even appreciate the 
love of a great-souled woman like Alice Emory. 
If he ever marries, mark my word, he will 
marry a woman whose characterless nature will 
be satisfied to be worshipped with the many, 
and who in the end will be a kind of slave to 
him. 

“ I have wondered if Miss Emory really un- 


42 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

derstood his make-up, or whether the glamour 
of love prevented her from seeing things in their 
true light. My mother has always insisted that 
there was no true love on either side, but that 
the force of circumstances caused the engage- 
ment. If this is so, the sooner the affair is 
ended the better. It may seem strange to you 
that I am so stirred with the idea of trying to 
help the lady in some way if possible out of 
this engagement, but as I have told you my 
mother is a warm friend of the family and I 
have learned through her so much of the lova- 
ble and heroic qualities of the heroine that I 
cannot bear to think she may unite herself to 
this selfish man. And for fear you may suspect 
I have a deeper reason of a personal sort, I will 
here confess that the die is cast — and my heart 
is not free for future disposal — in short — I am 
myself engaged to a lady in my own city, and 
if your enthusiasm and knightly indignation do 
not like the ‘helmet and the helmet feather, burn 
like one burning flame together,’ then I must 
say you are not worthy of your friend’s thought 
of you. I had forgotten to say the minister s 
name is Alpheus Lawrence.” 

Maurice Rossman dropped his friend’s letter 
and looked out upon the dust-beclouded street. 
Then a quick, sharp agony of soul seemed for a 
moment to blur his mental vision — and when 
the first pang had passed, his reason demanded 
that his mind forces should be marshalled and 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 43 

organized to discern if possible what calamity 
bad befallen bis innermost soul. Tbe intellect 
seemed to question this inner self — “ Wby are 
you stricken at tbe news of tbis young lady’s 
love-engagement ? Had you any lawful claims 
upon ber ? ” 

And voices witbin bim whispered — “Tbe 
bigbest claim I tbe claim of tbe flame upon tbe 
spark, tbe claim of tbe summer’s bloom upon 
tbe sun, tbe claim of life upon its source!” 
Then as tbe calmer moment of thought came be 
said to himself, “ I have been a fool to give my- 
self up to tbe spell that tbis woman has cast 
over me.” Then be realized how the impression 
had been growing upon him that Miss Emory, 
who with his first care had begun to influence 
him was tbe one who bad seemed to bim or- 
dained to interpret bis father’s last words to him 
so that it would be possible for bim to honor 
his profession even in Union City. It seemed 
then that he could have challenged her reverend 
lover to a proof of worthiness of the prize, and 
could have fought even to death for tbe prize — 
then be beard scoffing voices — “This Miss Emory, 
young man — what interest does she have in you 
except as she would help you ? ” 

He heard a step, he turned to see Miss Emory 
herself waiting. He rose and the lady at once 
gave her errand, — “ I have come Doctor Eoss- 
man to ask you to visit a sick girl who lives 
upon the flat. She has the fever, and needs 


44 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

immediate care, can you go?” He gave liis 
promise and the lady went quickly out, and 
took the way down to the home where the sick 
girl lived. 

Doctor Rossman who a few moments before 
had been grappling with the demons of despair, 
now felt a strange, ecstatic thrill at the evidence 
that this woman trusted him. If at that moment 
he could have been made sure of her life-trust, 
perhaps he would have asked no greater bless- 
ing. Trust, companionship, and love, he had 
never, until his experience in this new place ex- 
pected from woman. 

He went down to the flat again, and when he 
saw the house which like the one where Jim, 
his first patient lived, was new and unpainted, he 
was not conscious of disgust, so intent was he 
upon his purpose. A woman who had heard 
his step opened the door before he knocked. 
“ Hurry right in!” she said in a hoarse whisper. 
“ She has got one of her awful shakes ; I believe it 
is the very worst one she has ever had, and Miss 
Emory can’t help her any more than I can! ” 

The Doctor trembled slightly when he learned 
that Miss Emory was there; he followed the 
woman however without faltering into the sick 
room. Miss Emory was chafing the girl’s limbs, 
she started and blushed deeply as the doctor 
entered. She bowed and quietly left the room. 

She went to the little parlor, dropped upon a 
seat, covered her face with her hands and asked 


MA URICE ROSSMAirS'LEUma. 45 

herself in faintness of spirit — ‘^What can I do? 
How long can I endure this? And it is the 
result of my false position, it comes from my sup- 
posed wisdom in the care of Jim. And I shall 
be called by these people who judge superficially 
until Doctor Rossman proves his own efficiency 
to them, but how can I refuse the calls of the 
poor creatures ? ” 

A half hour passed and then the woman of 
the house came into the room, and in an excited 
voice said — “Miss — Emory that doctor has 
worked almost a miracle I Lucy is just like a 
lamb I They needn’t tell me he’s a quack any 
longer — he says it was a congestive chill. It’s 
my opinion that if the flat had hired him more 
and others less we shouldn’t have had such a run 
of fever as we have had here. There’s a look 
in his eye that you won’t find in the eyes of 
quacks. I suppose if I had more learning I 
could explain what the look is, but all I can 
gay is — it’s a look that means a great deal.” 

Miss Emory’s heart gave a throb of joy as 
she heard the woman’s verdict. She felt that 
the words were essentially true with regard to 
the young physician’s nature. When after a 
few minutes. Doctor Rossman entered the room 
in his passage from the house she with a trem- 
bling tone said, “ I thank you.” 

Doctor Rossman seeing her embarrassment, 
replied with a forced gay ety of manner — “You 
were called first, Miss Emory, and I am indebted 


46 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

to you for a good word, I am sure.” She an- 
swered with more strength in her voice, “ I am 
very grateful to you. Doctor Kossman, on account 
of these people. The sick girl, Lucy, needs all 
the encouragement and help that can be given 
her; if you see her often you will find that in a 
sense she is much out of place here.” 

The doctor bowed, was silent a minute, then 
said as if his sentence could express but a small 
part of what he would say— “ Miss Emory, you 
should have chosen to be a physician yourself, 
you seem to have a genius for the profession.” 
He added a “ good by ” and went out. 

Miss Emory went back to the sick-room, she 
stood beside the bed and looked at the girl as 
she lay with closed eyes. “Lucy,” said the 
mother, as she felt the warmth of the hand that 
lay upon the bed-spread, “ he’s really put new 
life into you, he’s a wonderful doctor ! ” Lucy 
opened her eyes, the tears coursed down her face 
but she did not speak. Miss Emory sat down 
and found relief herself in a little quiet cry. 

“ Miss Emory,” whispered Lucy, when she 
found that her mother had gone out and left them 
alone, “ I want to tell you something he told me, 
the new doctor did — that it was worth while to 
try and live. I don’t know how he knew that I 
had got tired of living, for I have never really 
told anybody all about it, and how I could not 
fix myself just right where I’ve been placed. I 
was surprised when he said in a very kind voice, 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 47 

‘ You must get well, for your work in the world. 
We all have a place to fill, and if we try we are 
helped to find the right one.’ Oh, I can’t tell 
you how much courage his words have given 
me ! I’ve been thinking so long that there was 
no place in the world for me, and that I couldn*4 
find anything pleasant in life, but this new doc- 
tor has made life seem another thing from what 
it was.” 

Miss Emory whispered “ Yes, there’s some- 
thing for all of us to do, and find pleasure in,” 
but as the assurance came from her lips, she felt 
that it was offered to an abnormal condition, 
and she wondered how far Doctor Eossman had 
used his encouragement professionally, and if he 
would have told an old man full of infirmities 
i^nd without wife or child, the same thing. 

Doctor Eossman had not spoken without rec- 
ognizing the conditions of need, when his insight 
showed him all the environments of the young 
girl that would bar her from those means of hap. 
piness which girlhood in its best estate possesse* 
He asked himself, how can I tell her it is worth 
while ? Then throughout his consciousness he 
heard the cry — It is your duty to holdall human 
life as sacred ; it is your duty to exert yourself to 
the uttermost to save life! 

That night when alone in his room he read 
again his friend’s letter, and lingered long over 
^he likeness of himself to Donatello. He could 
not prevent a smile as he glanced into the glass 


48 MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEAD INC. 

to assure himself about the “ stray lock.” The 
wayward lock was still untrained, but did the 
analogy hold good with regard to his wayward 
habits of thought? His memory carried him 
back one year. He recalled those days in Eome 
when among the scenes which inspired the great 
novelist, he read the “Marble Faun,” and had 
been more impressed with the picture of Hilda, 
than that of the faun-Donatello. But since life 
with himself had suddenly grown so “sadly 
serious,” the transformation in the character of 
the faun seemed as his friend had suggested, to 
bear a likeness to his own experience, and there- 
fore an attractive subject for thought. He began 
to feel a new and strange sympathy in this sub- 
ject of transformation. He marked out in im- 
agination a way for himself where conscience, 
more and more asserting its authority, should 
demand, hour by hour, a new and higher sacri- 
fice. “ Where after one has been once awakened 
to the call of duty can be found a resting place ? 
Where will it end ? ” These questions he could 
not evade. That there had been a transforma- 
tion in his own experience that was true, but he 
felt that neither a crime nor a change of place 
was responsible for it. He could tell his friend 
this, if he chose to do so, but could he have ex- 
plained clearly the influences that had been pow- 
erful towards effecting this change ? 

He wondered if his aunt knew of the marriage 
engagement of Miss Emory. She had never 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 49 

spoken of it in his presence, indeed he thought 
he had discovered a slight manoeuvring to try 
and bring the young lady and himself into inti- 
mate relations. He remembered that it had been 
said that match-making seemed a necessity to 
childless widows. Sleep came upon him here, 
and he did not waken until the rising-bell 
sounded. 

“ I am to have a few friends here this evening 
for conversation and music,” said his aunt at 
breakfast; adding, “ I have been thinking, Maur- 
ice, that you are getting a little too solemn over 
your professional duties. I feel somehow a 
double responsibility with regard to you.” This 
was said playfully, and yet with those solicitous 
tones that seem to belong to a mother’s voice. 
“ You are my darling lost brother’s son, and I 
influenced you to come to this place. I did not 
want you to hide your light. I have been think- 
ing that the loss of the old privileges and com- 
panionships must weigh upon your spirits, for I 
know your nature is naturally a joyous one.” 
Doctor Kossman’s healthy complexion betrayed 
through a deep blush — a blush that the fairest girl 
might have owned — ^his confusion, but he did not 
reply. Mrs. Thorn was silent for a minute, and 
then said, “ Maurice, I want you to sing. Mrs. 
Emory spoke to me of your voice, she heard it 
when you sang in church. She has had an op- 
portunity to hear the very best music in her day.” 

“ Yes,” began Maurice, “ I suppose so, Auntie, 
4 


50 MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING, 

but as you admit, Mrs. Emory is losing her 
mind’s vigor, perhaps her faculty of judging 
from past standards may be impaired.” He spoke 
in a half-serious, half-humorous tone and then 
added in a voice wholly earnest and tender — “ I 
certainly should enjoy giving Mrs. Emory pleas- 
ure, and as to my growing solemn I am ashamed 
if I have forgotten my obligations as a gentle- 
man in my anxiety to meet those of my profes- 
sion ; but Auntie please don’t expect from me 
the attractive qualities that marked my father, 
and made him the popular and successful physi- 
cian that he was. I have not the ability to fol- 
low my professional leadings and at the same 
time that of holding my own abandon, indeed, I 
do not seem to know how to be even cheerful 
under the pressure of the duties of my calling. 
A goading influence, sometimes it has seemed to 
me a very demon, will not let me rest, in fact my 
dear Auntie, since I read your letter among the 
Eoman ruins, my old careless self has been a ruin. 

Mrs. Thorn heard these words not without a 
pang. She did not speak for a few minutes and 
then she said, as she might have spoken to a 
child: “I think Maurice that you will learn to 
feel easy in the service of your profession by 
and by, and I am proud of your devotion to 
your calling ; your faithfulness and success are 
making you popular. I think I could predict a 
marvellous career for a son of my brother — 
Maurice Eossman.” 


MAVRICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 


51 


“ Oh, aunt, don’t say that, I shall never equal 
my father. Never! never 1! ” With these words 
he rose and went out to his office. 

“Poor boy!” his aunt murmured, as she 
looked after him until he passed out of sight. 
Sarah, the housemaid, who had come in to take 
away the breakfast things heard the whispered 
words of Mrs. Thorn, and said within herself — 
“ It’s mighty strange of her to call that fine 
healthy-] ooking young man ‘poor boy,’ rich, 
and handsome, and smart they say he is too.” 
But Sarah did not know that these very condi- 
tions when mixed with certain others may con- 
stitute a heritage of sorrow. 

Mrs. Thorn mused for an hour, and her con- 
clusion at the end of it was — “I must try and use 
more tact and lead him to confide more fully in 
me, for young men who have no memory of a 
mother’s love and care seem to go through life 
with a part of their natures half-starved. How- 
ever I must believe that if he finds a woman 
who responds to his love and is worthy of it, all 
will be well with him.” 

Maurice himself, thought as he went towards 
his office that morning — “ What a weak fellow 
I have been, to whine like a child, on account 
of my unfortunate temperament. I should not 
have spoken of my difficulty, but I do crave 
woman’s sympathy. I never was conscious of 
this craving until I came to Union City. I won- 
der why I should be here.” 


52 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 


CHAPTER III. 


Mbs. Thorn’s invitations were extended to none 
but those who had in some way distinguished 
themselves by achievement that meant something 
for their kind, hence her companies were always 
limited in number. Descended from a stock 
which had no patience with people of small pur- 
poses or selfish ones, she had her standards that 
meant exclusion to mediocrity of aim, and she 
seemed endowed with an instinct, quite uncom- 
mon, for discovering the faintest spark of an as- 
piration in another, and possessed a strange fac- 
ulty for fanning it into flame. When she came 
upon such an aspiration her enthusiasm carried 
her away from herself and she found great joy 
in trying to help as best she could, towards the 
realization if possible of what had been hoped for 
i n the better moments of an experience. Through 
this ability — perhaps one of the highest that may 
belong to a person, to discover power in an- 
other and to assist in its development, after one- 
self has passed beyond the possibility of a per- 
sonal achievement of the kind which one would 
help another towards, she lived a varied and 
rose-hued life although she had her hours of sharp 
agony, as one of deep and far-reaching sympathies 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADINQ. 


63 


must always have. She held a high opinion of 
Mrs. Emory and her daughter, and from the first, 
saw in the latter a high purpose framed in the 
most delicate sensibilities, and a remarkable gen- 
tleness, united to a capability for heroic endur- 
ance and sacrifice. 

When she learned, as she did through the 
mother’s confidences of the particulars of her 
daughter’s engagement, she feared that like many 
another large-hearted woman she would become 
the willing sacrifice of one whose very selfishness 
would to an all-believing nature like hers, seem 
a virtue ; with this fear in her mind, and with a 
purpose to help in thwarting such a plan of sac- 
rifice, she made plans of her own. If she was in 
this a match-breaker or maker, I can only say 
that she belonged to a class that cannot well be 
spared from a world where the laws of fitness are 
so utterly disregarded in the domain of marriage 
engagements. There are match-makers, and 
match-makers, and do not I beg, give a sweeping 
charge against the class, you who look into eyes 
of love, and can recall the word spoken by a 
friend, that showed you the way towards a final 
blissful union. It is quite probable that you have 
never spoken with scorn of this friend’s effort in 
behalf of your happiness. 

But to return to Mrs. Thorn’s evening com- 
panies. She always succeeded in finding enough 
people even in the new western town to make up 
her number without departing from her rule to 


64 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

invite none but those who had a purpose in life. 
These meetings were informal, and there were 
none of those attempts at epigrammatic effects that 
are noticed in these latter days, and found par- 
ticularly in atmospheres not particularly intellec- 
tual. Each one brought something of himself to 
these entertainments, it might be music, or art, 
or philosophy, or the last theological venture, or 
the latest literary peculiarity in style, yet all 
must be put through the man’s individuality and 
must not have a foreign impress. Mrs. Thom had 
a way of humanizing everything. No one dared 
to appear on stilts at one of her “evenings,” and 
so it happened that these gatherings were thor- 
oughly enjoyable. 

Maurice was late in appearing on this partic- 
ular night. Mrs. Thorn was slightly annoyed at 
his delay, for she had her little project with regard 
to Miss Emory’s singing, and she had selected for 
her a song which had been sung by her at a pre- 
vious gathering of the kind and which displayed 
to a great advantage the rich tones of her voice. 
She wished her to repeat it, and was waiting for 
her nephew to arrive to call upon her, but 
Maurice did not come and fearing in any way to 
compromise her friend she requested her to 
sing. 

“Sing the Best Song my daughter,” said 
Mrs. Emory. Miss Emory blushed, looked help- 
lessly towards Mrs. Thorn, who answered the 
glance with an embarrassed expression. “I 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


66 


want you all to hear that new song, she composed 
it herself,” the mother pleaded. 

There was a general call for the “Rest Song” 
and Mrs. Thorn felt that there was nothing for 
her to do but to join in that call, and perhaps 
thus help to relieve her Jyoung friend’s embar- 
rassment. She was not one who practiced the 
little tricks in the way of refusal which perhaps 
belong particularly to amateurs, but in her com- 
pliance could be plainly seen her reluctance to 
sing the song proposed by her mother. 

With trembling hand she struck the first 
chord and then in an impassioned way sang the 
simple “ Rest Song ” to the end. Maurice Ross- 
man entered the hallway as she was singing the 
first verse, and he stood outside the entrance 
door to the parlor listening until the last note 
had died. 

After the moment’s hush that followed had 
been broken by the complimentary words of the 
company, he entered and passed around offering 
his greetings to those whom he had met before. 
When he came to Mrs. Emory she said — “ You 
were late to hear my daughter’s song, though I 
don’t think it sounded as it does when we are 
alone, two tired ones together.” Doctor Rossman 
murmured something in reply, he did not know 
exactly what, and then he saw what made him 
wish he had not entered the room at all. He saw 
the mother make a sign to her daughter which 
he divined he saw Miss Emory touch her mother’s 


66 MAURICE ROSSMAN'8 LEADING. 

hand and she blushed deeply as she did so. He 
turned away and engaged in conversation with 
another guest, whispering within himself “ poor 
girl ! poor girl ! she has much to suffer before 
the end comes ; ” for the young doctor was viewing 
the case professionally as well as sympathetically 
and mingled with his pity for the daughter who 
must be forced to witness month by month, the 
mind failure, were his speculations in the domain 
of medical science. 

That night as he helped the mother and 
daughter into his aunt’s carriage and took the 
driver’s seat he seemed to be newly-commis- 
sioned to guard the interests of these two, the 
secret of whose threatening disaster seemed to 
be lodged in his own mind. If his words to them 
that night were full of sympathy it was not 
strange. 

Doctor Eossman had constant calls upon his 
professional service, for the fever raged upon the 
flat, and his management of Lucy Pearson’s case 
had given him a popularity which was quite 
unusual in the experience even of medical men. 
To a young professional man without means a 
strict attention to the needs of this class would 
have meant starvation, especially if his charitable, 
instincts had become a part of his conscience, as 
had Maurice Eossman’s. It was well therefore 
that this young doctor had a patrimony from 
which he could draw for his needs ; the shiftless 
poor were not careful to pay his fee, and the 


MAURICE ROSSMAIPE LEADING. 57 

poor with a delicate sense of honor and gratitude 
presented such a pathetic picture to him that he 
had not the heart to accept the offered pittance. 
Yet notwithstanding these drawbacks his real 
gain during this season’s sickness was probably 
greater than he could ever understand ; it was a 
gain for mind and heart ; then, although the ex- 
perience revealed to him the meanest traits and 
habits, it also convinced him that virtues are 
not only a heritage, but also, an acquisition, and 
that flowers may grow by the side of noxious 
weeds, and amid noisome surroundings. And it 
surely was no loss to him that his sense of pro- 
fessional responsibility deepened and that the 
duty seemed pressed upon him more and more 
to see that the lives he had rescued from death 
should prove that they were worth saving. 

When he took the puny, sickly child from 
the arms of its exhausted mother and hushed its 
cries, and when he said to that mother, if 

not from your own choice, yet for the sake of 
your child ! ” was it the man’s animal magnetism 
that gave the power to his words and made the 
outlook seem brighter? or was it that mysterious 
something that dwells often with a less attractive 
person than Maurice Kossman and transforms him 
and becomes an unanswerable force ? 

Lucy Pearson had, through this peculiar 
power been made to believe that life was not 
such a dreadful burden as she had supposed, and 
that even to her there might come a joy that 


58 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADINO. 

would fill her want. During her first week of 
convalescence she began to feel a growing pur- 
pose to find her place in the world ; with this 
purpose came marching forward a whole army 
of doubts and questionings that even in the most 
determined nature will rise to challenge, and to 
dispute every inch of progress of one who would 
seek a new path. It was not strange that the 
girl in the hour of her extremity should go to 
the one who had first held out to her the hope of 
better things; and it happened that one night 
as Doctor Eossman was locking the door of his 
office, he saw a slight figure beside the building; 
and a voice which he recognized as that of his 
patient of a few weeks before asked, “ May I say 
a few words to you. Doctor Eossman ? ” 

“ Will you go into the office ? ” asked the doc- 
tor. 

“ No,” answered the girl, “ but if you please, 
I will walk the way you are going and not make 
you go out of your road.” 

Maurice Eossman being a gentleman, treated 
this girl, who evidently had fine instincts, as 
courteously as if she had been accustomed to the 
refinements of the best society. 

She did not use the moments for meaningless 
talk or for apologies for her course — she began 
at once to tell her errand — “ I want to speak out 
to you. Doctor Eossman, because you are the 
first one who told me so that I believed it, that 
it was worth while to live, and that there was 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 69 

something in life for me. Since I have been 
well I’ve been trying to find out what it is. I 
almost gave up yesterday because there did not 
seem to be any use in it. I tried to do my work 
better than I- had ever done it before, I had so 
many tucks and ruffles to iron I You see my 
mother — she is my step-mother — washes for fam- 
ilies. 1 tried to think of my father’s words to me 
when he was lying sick, a little while before he died. 
I told him how dreadful it all was to me, and he 
laid his white, thin hand upon my head, and his 
voice was hardly more than a whisper as he said 
— ‘ My poor girl, you are like your mother ; 
this is not your life, my child, only be brave 
while it lasts ; and never give up hoping or 
looking out for better opportunities.’ When I 
was sick I had given up looking for them, and 
I was not brave ; you know that, Doctor Koss- 
man, for I told you I did not want to live. I 
do not remember my own mother. I wish I 
could. My second mother is kind and good, but 
I think I worry her. I think it would be better 
for her if I left her.” The girl paused in her 
talk, and Doctor Kossman asked, “ What would 
you like to do in the world? ” 

“ I thought if I could go to school again I 
would study hard and try to fit myself for some- 
thing — perhaps for teaching, but what I wanted 
to ask about was this — my father’s people are 
very different from the people down upon the 
flat. The doctor knew that she would have him 


60 MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING. 

understand that the relatives of her father were 
quite unlike her second mother. She hesitated 
as if she wished to make him understand if pos- 
sible, without seeming unkind or coarse. She 
went on again — “ My father, in the first of his 
last sickness wanted to write to his sister, but 
his wife — my second mother — would not listen 
to it, she said she could not have such high-feel- 
ing people coming at the last to rule over and 
despise her. 

“ I think though, my father meant to write to 
his sister about me ; I think he meant to ask 
her to take me to her home, but he never found 
the strength after he had found the courage, I 
believed it troubled him that he could not. 

“ The day he died, he told me where I could 
find the key to a little box that held a few keep- 
sakes, and when I opened the box I found my 
own mother’s picture, and also the picture of a 
beautiful girl, and on the card was written — 
‘Annie at eighteen.’ I knew that was my father’s 
sister, and oh, sir! she must be a grand, 
proud lady to have a face like that in the pic- 
ture. I have come to my question now. Doctor 
Kossman ; I want to ask if it would be best for 
me to write to my father’s sister and tell her 
what my father meant to do for me, she perhaps 
would know what I ought to do in life. 

They had reached the street that led down to 
her home. She stopped and asked eagerly, “ Will 
you think it over. Doctor Rossman? ” He an- 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 61 

swered, decidedly, “I will,” and was about to 
add a word of encouragement, when she said, 
“ Good night,” and was gone. 

Maurice was glad to find his aunt alone in the 
parlor. She looked up from the magazine she 
was reading as her nephew entered the room, 
and laying it aside, rose to meet him with a 
smile and a word of welcome. He led her to a 
seat, and taking one beside her, told her of the 
evening’s incident. 

“Poor girl! poor girl!” murmured the lady, 
“ I have been myself very negligent in this mat- 
ter. Miss Emory mentioned her to me. I think 
she said she had a talent for music. I am much 
ashamed of myself, Maurice. I wonder what your 
father would have thought of such carelessness 
in me. Your father never allowed himself to 
lose an opportunity for doing good, and he had 
such an insight also.” 

“ I have been the negligent one,” said Mau- 
rice, “I persuaded the girl that there was some- 
thing better for her in life, and then I left 
her to grope her way in the darkness. Hot that 
I forgot her, but I did not have courage to follow 
out my leadings in helping her ; but you see my 
duty has followed me and insists upon my atten- 
tion.” He sighed as he added, “I believe I am 
a fated man, aunt; my professional conscience is 
getting more and more tyrannical ; where its lead- 
ings will end I cannot possibly imagine — but I 
must follow on always.” 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


“ I think,” said Mrs Thorn, after a little reflec- 
tion, “ I think I can do for her better than you 
can. I believe that I can persuade her step- 
mother that it is best for her to part with Lucy. 
-I shall offer the girl a home myself while the 
plans for her future are unsettled.” 

Maurice knew that his aunt was equal to the 
management of the most complex case that 
might be presented to her philanthropic sense, 
yet he could not help regretting that he had not 
himself tried to help the struggling girl in her 
desire to find her place in life. But the next 
day when he went home to dinner and his aunt 
told him that she had been down to the Pearson 
home and had gained the consent of the woman 
to part with Lucy he felt much relieved, and so- 
laced himself with the belief that all had been 
done more fittingly than he could himself have 
done it. 

“ I think,” said Mrs. Thorn, “ that the proposi- 
tion was a great relief to the woman ; she seems 
honest and kind, but she told me plainly that 
Lucy does not belong with her, and that she had 
been trying to contrive a way to get her to her 
aunt.” 

The afternoon of this same day down at the 
cottage on the flat, was enacted one of those 
life-scenes that cast a bright reflection upon our 
poor common life, and help us to imagine vast 
possibilities for the race that has been touched 
by the power of a great sacrifice. 


MAVRICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 


63 


“ Lucy,” began Mrs. Pearson, as sbe lifted her 
patched apron to her eyes, “ I always knew it 
would come to this; things that can’t mix must 
part; that’s a law. It’s a hard law sometimes it 
seems, but if we don’t mind it there’ll be trouble 
from beginning to end. I am going to tell you 
now how it happened that I didn’t mind it. I 
worked in your father’s family for many a year, 
and I was proud of being called a careful, faith- 
ful housekeeper. After your mother died, your 
father brought you back to his old home to be 
taken care of ; oh, how sorry I felt for the pretty 
little creature who had lost her mother. I 
nursed you through scarlet fever and you grew 
fond of me and it made me very happy. I never 
had been given a trust and love like it; I think 
it made a new being of me; your father’s sister 
noticed the change in me and said one day, ‘You 
are growing handsome, Martha.’ 

“ After a few months your father came home 
from another city, sick, he had a run of fever 
and I watched with him for weeks, and one day 
after he was able to sit up, the doctor said to 
him in my hearing — ‘ I think you owe your life 
to your careful, faithful nurse rather than to me.’ 
Then your father began gradually to treat me as 
a friend, and not as a servant ; he gave me books 
to read, and talked with me about them. Your 
father’s sister did not like this, and they had 
long talks together in the library, and after one 
of them, the sister came out and said to me. 


64 MAURICE ROSSMAirE LEADING. 

‘Martha, I don’t know how I am ever to get 
along without you, but you, must find another 
place.’ ” 

“ I knew why I was sent away and I packed 
my trunk, and when I came down stairs to 
say good-by to them your father came up to 
me — I can never forget how tall and grand he 
seemed, and he said — ‘ You shall not go alone, 
Martha; you shall go as my wife if you will, and 
we were married.” 

“Your father was kind to me always ; but it 
was all a mistake, Lucy. We did not belong to- 
gether, and after awhile I understood why so 
grand a man married his sister’s housekeeper — 
it was because he thought he owed her a debt 
of gratitude for her care over him in his sick- 
ness, and thought he could best pay it by giving 
himself to her. I ought to have known that it 
would not turn out for the best, but I thought I 
could make him happy and that he could make 
me over into a lady. 

“He tried to hide his disappointment from me, 
but I could see how he felt, when he could not 
help me to understand books and could not 
interest me in the subjects that interested him. 
Oh, your father was a king among men, but he 
could not learn to take things as he found them. 

“ I tried to keep the house clean, and to be 
economical, and to have a smiling face for him 
when he came home. He was grateful for it I 
am sure, and when he said to me ‘ Martha, you 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 65 

saved my life, I owe everything to you! ‘ I knew 
he was trying in his mind to make it seem that 
he had been a wise man in choosing a wife. 

“ He had a portrait of your mother hanging 
in our parlor when we were first married, and 
one day when I thought he was gone from the 
house I went in and stood ‘before it, and gave 
vent to my feelings, for I knew how he used to 
go in alone and stand before it in a kind of wor- 
ship. I cried aloud — ‘ Why couldn’t I have been a 
real lady and beautiful like you ? Why couldn’t 
he have loved me for myself., and not because I 
saved his life ? ’ ” 

“ I sank down upon the sofa and gave myself 
up to my woe, and soon I heard steps near, and 
your father whispered to me, and I knew that 
he had heard all. Oh, how hard he tried to 
comfort me, but he was too true to tell me what 
of all things would have comforted me most — 
he could not say — ‘ I married you for love, and 
I made a wise choice ’ — he could not say that. 
He stroked my hair and said with a world of 
pity in his voice — ‘ Poor Martha I poor woman, 
you have been my faithful wife, and I can never 
forget that you saved my life.’ We went on in 
the old way, after that ; your father never forgot 
to be a gentleman, and I tried to be pleasant 
and faithful but I never could learn the ways of 
a lady. 

“ When your father lost his money he came 
West, and then after he was taken with the dis* 
5 


66 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

ease that ended his life, real trouble began for 
us. Then I had to begin to take in washing, and 
it seemed to fill him with shame and anger ; the 
smell of the suds, and the heat from the ironing- 
fire was all dreadful to him, and sometimes when 
he complained about it a great deal, I spoke to 
him in an angry way, but we forgave each other 
all^ before he died. When he wanted to send 
for his sister, I was not willing. I could not 
bear the thought of her coming to look upon 
our poverty, and to blame me in her proud way. 
He forgave me that too. 

“ You are right, Lucy, in wanting to have a 
different life from what you get here. I ought to 
have helped you to find it before, but I was sel- 
fish. I wanted to keep you near me ; you have 
your father’s kindness, and his grand way comes 
out in you at times. It somehow holds me to the 
belief, having you near me does, that I am the 
Martha that he condescended to make his wife.” 

Lucy listened, while a feeling of reverence 
grew within her for this woman who had been, 
as she vaguely saw, sacrificed through a mistaken 
sense of duty. 

“ I cannot leave you ! ” she cried ; “ it would be 
an ungrateful act for me to leave you to bear 
the hard life alone ; you saved my father’s life, 
you took care of me through all those years. 
Who will take care of you when you are sick ? ” 

“ I shall never have a long sickness, it will be 
only for a short time that I shall need care I 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 67 

think.” Lucy afterwards brought to her mind 
her step-mother’s manner as she turned and said 
very earnestly — “ I know my girl what I am 
saying. It won’t be a long sickness for me, and 
then could I bear to think of dying and leaving 
you to go on in a place where you don’t belong ? 
I promised your poor father that his mistake 
should not be the means of his child’s making a 
mistake. You would stay with me because you 
are grateful to me ; I say you shall not ! It was 
enough for your father to be sacrificed ; you shall 
not be.” 

For the first time Lucy saw the meaning of 
the relation between her father and this woman 
whom he had made his wife, and she felt that to 
herself was given the duty of trying to bring 
comfort and possibly happiness to one who suf- 
fered through her father’s mistake. 

Through the long night she pondered upon it. 
In bringing back the words of her father as he 
lay upon his death-bed, she regarded them in 
the light of this revelation with regard to the 
motives of his marriage, and she wondered how 
he could have so misconceived of the obligation 
of gratitude as to counsel her to seek a new 
home and leave the victim of his mistake alone. 

What should she do, how should she know ? 
These questions, rose and demanded an answer. 
Her higher faculties, her finer instincts cried out 
— Will you make gratitude base by using it as a 
defeat for the accomplishment of higher ends in 


68 MAURICE ROSSMAIPS LEADING. 

life ? Then as the tears streamed forth she asked t 
Shall I leave this woman in loneliness, this 
woman who was taken from her place in the 
world, and who can never now settle herself with 
ease to any condition ? All these mental ques- 
tions, for which she could never have found 
audible words, presented themselves to her until 
the heaviness of her soul lent weight to her 
eyelids, and she fell asleep. 

The morning was not long in coming, for indeed 
it was at hand when sleep came to her. She 
awoke to a sense of that inexpressible pain and 
dread, of which finely organized natures are capa- 
ble, when ideals and actualities are quite inhar- 
monious. She rose, and, putting on her calico 
wrapper, shook out her luxuriant black hair, and 
cast an involuntary look into the little mirror 
that hung upon the wall. 

She was for the first minute quite unconscious 
that the cracked glass reflected her own image, 
for the question, “ How will you decide for your 
future? ” was pressing upon her attention. 

Some of us fight but one real battle, while oth- 
ers skirmish with opposing forces all through life. 
It came, this fierce one battle, to this girl, as she 
stood before the little glass. It was a contest for 
which the opposing elements had been arraying 
themselves long, and when again she was con- 
scious that she viewed her own face in the glass, 
she was startled at what she saw. She chal- 
lenged the firmly- closed lips to part and assure 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


her that this new expression was not hers. She 
was changed ; she saw that. We all, perhaps, at 
least all who know what it is to live in its deep- 
est sense, have had our moment of looking over 
the battle-field of our souls, and perhaps have 
sickened at the ghastly picture while believing 
it to be the price of our victory. 

She saw not a girl’s expression, but a woman’s, 
resolute, but not exultant. She seemed to meet 
a hand extended to her through the dimness of 
the future, to lead her on to the heights of which 
in her soul she had dreamed. She finished dress- 
ing, and went down to the kitchen, where Mrs. 
Pearson was preparing breakfast. 

The woman, looking up, saw something in the 
girl’s face that attracted her attention. She saw 
that a change had come to her — eye, and lip, 
and brow were declaring it. 

Upon the worn features of Mrs. Pearson there 
was something also that did not escape the no- 
tice of Lucy — something that told of a fierce in- 
ward struggle. 

They regarded each other furtively for a mo- 
ment, and then Lucy rushed into the woman’s 
arms, the arms which had waited through the 
yearning years for this supreme moment. 

“ I cannot bear to leave you now, mother. I 
am sure you will let me stay when I tell you 
that I must stay for love’s sake ! I love you 
now^ if I never loved you before,” she sobbed. 


70 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

“ Oh, don’t say it, Lucy, don’t, my girl ; you 
don’t know what you are saying ! ” 

“ But I do,” she cried. “ I will tell the truth. 
I did not know that I loved you till last night. 
I believe I can never be troubled with the work 
we have to do again.” 

“ But my girl,” persisted the brave woman, 
“I made a promise to your father. I told him 
I would see that you had a chance for better 
things. I should not rest if I did not keep it. 
If you ever need my love remember it is always 
waiting for you ; you have only to come to me 
if you want a friend. But you must go away, 
you must have a chance to be something in 
the world — and how proud and happy I shall 
be if you make a good and beautiful woman. I 
shall say to myself, ‘ though you could not do 
anything in the world that was great, you kept 
your word to try and give her another chance.’ ” 

The days that remained to the two together 
were not glad days, neither were they days of 
gloom, but they held that new experience which 
must be a twilight one, an experience that 
brings with it much pain, with glints of joy, in the 
knitting of new ties where the old were as things 
of the past. 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


71 


CHAPTEE IV. 


Lucy Pearson did not accept the invitation of 
Mrs. Thorn to visit at her home ; she would not 
have been willing to leave her step-mother after 
she found how her poor heart yearned for love ; 
the narrow home, the unpleasant conditions 
which attended the getting of the daily bread, 
seemed changed. Love and its necessities had 
brought a different outlook. But there was the 
object in life, what she had once named a 
“chance,” was now transformed in its meaning; 
it had been dignified to a purpose. 

Mrs. Thorn received an early answer to her 
letter of inquiry with regard to Lucy. An ur- 
gent invitation was sent by Miss Pearson for her 
brother’s child to come as soon as possible to 
her. The simple preparations were made, and 
the ’girl went forth to meet her life-experience. 
Martha Pearson watched the omnibus until it 
was out of sight and then went back to her iron- 
ing-table to take up labor, and to find in it, as so 
many of all grades of intellect and purpose have 
found — a refuge from the effect of thoughts that 
without the help of this labor might have led on 
to despair. Labor, to Martha Pearson, had 
through life been a necessity. 


72 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


The child of parents whose life was a struggle 
to keep the wolf from the door, she early learned 
the nature of this struggle, and from her first re- 
membrance was conscious of a responsibility for 
the brothers and sisters younger than herself. 
So urgent and continuous were the demands of 
self-sacrifice, that little time was allowed her for 
recreation, or to indulge in youthful fancies and 
girlhood’s dreams, and thus this part of her na- 
ture was repressed, never having a chance like 
the practical side : yet down deep in her soul she 
held its instincts sacred, and had a vague hope 
of somehow, and somewhere giving the dreams 
and the fancies an opportunity. 

She lived on in her toiling world, very un beau- 
tiful it was, except for the glints of joy that were 
really reflections from a satisfied conscience, and 
when she had closed the eyes of her father and 
mother, and as the years passed whispered last 
words of comfort and hope to five others of her 
own family, she went out from the home where 
she had lived, went to suffer and toil, until a 
new life seemed to offer itself in her marriage 
with Kalph Pearson. 

But as we have seen, this man of blue blood 
did not do her a real favor nor emancipate 
her from the necessity of toil in marrying her, 
yet labor presented a new aspect to her for a 
time, and this made a pleasant illusion. She would 
keep her husband’s house clean and bright, she 
would take as far as possible the burden of care 


MAVRICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 73 

from him. While she could do this she would 
keep him happy, and he would at last look upon 
her as a blessing that he could not do without. 

But from that dreadful hour when she began 
to realize the difference between married love 
and married gratitude, labor seemed to change 
its face, and was not the old refuge. Left alone 
to her reflections, she felt she could not trust 
herself, — a wild impulse seemed to beckon on to 
suicide as the only chance for relief — then again 
labor, hard labor, presented itself as her gospel, 
and she was wise and brave enough to accept it 
as such. 

On this day of the departure of Lucy, as she 
worked to keep herself from utter despondency, 
and thought that for her husband’s child there 
was no need longer of her care, and that hence- 
forth labor must be for herself alone, she cried 
to her soul, “ What refuge can I find in work 
now ? ” She whispered at last, “ There is the 
last payment to make.” This recollection 
seemed to give her satisfaction. She care- 
fully calculated the cost of a few improve- 
ments upon the cottage and then reflected 
upon the probable length of her life, and the 
amount of strength that would be required to ac- 
complish her labor of love. Then a pang con- 
vulsed her frame and she sank beside her ironing 
table. These pangs were not new to her, often 
she had felt them, somtimes in the presence of 
Lucy, and she had stood at her post hiding as far 


74 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

as possible the signs of her agony. Months before 
this she had discovered the nature of the poison 
that Death held in its arrow for her. She had 
kept this knowledge a secret from her husband 
and his daughter. Many times her memory had 
taken her upon the journey she had made to the 
city ostensibly to see an aunt, but really to con- 
sult a doctor, who told her frankly of the nature 
of her malady, and that a surgical operation 
might save her life. It was the doubt in his words 
that had kept her from submitting to the oper- 
ation. “ For how,” she questioned herself, “how 
could my husband and the girl get along with- 
out me now, if it should end in sudden death ? ” 
Sometimes, since the young doctor had come 
to Union City, and had worked wonders among 
the poor upon the flat, she had become possessed 
of an uncontrollable longing to consult him. She 
had often brought to mind the words he had 
spoken to Lucy, with regard to the duty of trying 
to hold life, and she had speculated time and 
again upon their weight as related to the life of 
one who like herself had passed several mile- 
stones and had no claim upon anybody’s care. 
“ What would Doctor Eossman say to me about 
trying to hold my life?” she had whispered. 
The spasms of pain were becoming more and 
more frequent and a fear sometimes presented 
itself that she would not be able to accom- 
plish all she had hoped to before she should 
be called to lay down her life-work. She wished 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 75 

to pay up the little sum she owed upon the little 
house. She would if possible leave to her 
husband’s daughter something that would show 
that her life had not been a uesless one. It 
seemed to her that even in her grave she 
would be conscious of this acknowledgment 
from her husband’s child. To beautify the 
spot if possible where she had wept and girded 
herself anew for life’s battle ; this was a part of 
the work left to her — this and the payment of 
the few last dollars upon the little home prop- 
erty — was to take her thought and energy 
through the remainder of life. 

To Lucy Pearson the journey away from Un- 
ion City was full of significance. She was leav- 
ing the poverty, the distasteful life behind her, 
she was going away from unnatural conditions 
made by her father’s marriage mistake, to the 
home-atmosphere that was his before his grati- 
tude led his judgment captive. It seemed as 
the hours passed that a changing process was 
constantly going on within her. She wondered 
if at the end of her journey she should be recog- 
nizable to herself. 

Then with a pang came a picture of the lonely 
woman in the little barren home. She thought 
of what this woman had told her of her purpose 
of love and sacrifice towards the man who had 
wronged her through a mistaken sense of grati- 
tude and duty. It began to dawn upon her in a 
clearer way how much she owed this widowed 


76 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

woman upon her father’s account as well as upon 
her own. She felt that it was a debt that must be 
paid faithfully and entirely. She had no doubt 
now that she had acted wisely in leaving her, 
though if she had known of the secret malady 
that was preying upon the life of the woman she 
had left alone she might have had. She would 
perhaps be able to earn a place among the world’s 
workers, and who could tell that she would not 
earn a home to which she could bring her mother 
and find a joy in trying to give her a pleas- 
anter life and thus prove to her that in taking 
the Pearson name she had not lost all capability 
of happiness. Lucy Pearson was not unlike the 
other aspirants who are on the road to achieve- 
ment, in that her hope of swift fruition was 
larger, before the first encounter with difficul- 
ties, than after. She expected to win, to win 
through her own exertions, and to win 
speedily. 

In this she had taken counsel from the swift 
transition of her own mental state, and had ar- 
gued that thus swiftly she would win. Of course 
the veteran in life’s warfare knows that inward 
conditions do not always control the outward, 
and when the former would seem to insure vic- 
tory, battle with delays is only just begun. Yet 
would effort and its results be more efficient and 
valuable if each one who enlisted for the prizes 
of life could recognize this fact? Is not defeat, 
or rather the stimulating effects of a first, second 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 77 

or third defeat upon faithful souls pregnant with 
a something which gives a final victory its true 
value ? 

It was late at night when Lucy arrived at the 
old home, which she felt must be full of associa- 
tions that would be sad and glad for her. She 
could hide the signs of the first impressions in the 
privacy of her own room, her father’s room it 
had been, her aunt told her. 

“ This was Ralph’s room,” her aunt said, as 
she led the way into the apartment. “ These 
pictures and this cabinet are as they were in his 
college days, and these are the books he read at 
that time. That stuffed bird he brought home 
from South America. Such a bright creature it 
is. He loved beauty, he was beautiful himself,” 
and she sighed as she said it. “ You can see by 
this picture,” she added, “ what he was when he 
was twenty-one years of age.” She raised the 
tarlatan hanging as she spoke, and brought before 
Lucy’s gaze the handsome face of a young man. 

She was surprised, for she had no memory of 
her father back of the years that had brought to 
him the marks of care and sickness. “ It is very 
beautiful,” she exclaimed, “ Hoble and beautiful. 
He was sick so long, but at the very last, and 
after he lay in his coffin, a grand look came over 
his features. I cannot describe it at all.” 

Her aunt shuddered perceptibly, but did not 
reply, but dropping the curtain she bade her 
niece “ good-night,” and left her to her thoughts. 


78 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

Lucy sank down upon a lounge. She looked 
around the dimly-lighted room, her father’s room, 
holding the evidences of his young aspirations 
with all the refinements and enthusiasms belong- 
ing to early manhood. The bright bird upon its 
perch seemed to flaunt its brilliant plumage in 
the face of her meditation. What influence was 
it that insisted upon presenting the picture of the 
poor wronged woman’s experience who had ac- 
cepted loneliness and labor with a martyr’s 
spirit? She would have given worlds, she felt, 
if they had been hers to give, if she could in 
that first hour, in the presence of that past, so 
connected with the brightest days of her father’s 
life, have been able to say — My father made no 
great mistake that wrecked another's happiness. 

She was worn and weary from her emotions, 
and her journey. She made her preparation for 
retiring, and raising the curtain entered the al- 
cove and went to her bed. The demands of na- 
ture were kindly towards her, and she soon for- 
got her sad thoughts in sleep. She did not waken 
until the rising bell sounded, then opening her 
eyes she glanced around in a bewildered way. 
She rose and dressed herself, and entered again the 
room where she had reflected so long the night be- 
fore. The bird with the bright plumage seemed 
again to flaunt its brilliant dress before her. She 
turned from it towards the picture of her father, 
and whispered as she had the first time she 
looked upon it, It is beautiful.” 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 79 

She went to the window, opened a shutter 
and looked out upon the old home-grounds. 
An old man was examining the trees and the 
shrubs. She noticed how carefully he did so, 
while he had that unmistakable manner belong- 
ing to those whose life and interests have been 
with the things of nature. She thought it would 
be a great privilege to have an opportunity to 
talk each day with such an old man, who lived 
among the trees and flowers and shrubbery. She 
went down stairs to meet her aunt, who was ar- 
ranging flowers in a vase. 

Miss Pearson offered her hand to her niece, 
bidding her a good morning and inquiring about 
her first night’s sleep in the old home. Then 
she placed the small hand within her arm, and 
taking up the vase of flowers, led the way to the 
breakfast room. 

“ Do you remember anything of your life 
here? ” began the lady as she poured the coffee, 
“ You were very young when you left,” she 
added, glancing inquiringly at her niece. 

“I have sometimes thought I did,” replied 
Lucy, “yet I have no distinct idea of those days. 
I remember a rabbit and a doll, I never had a 
doll afterwards like that doll of long ago, with its 
real hair; that is why I remember it, I suppose.” 

“You have your father’s manner; you are a 
Pearson, every inch I see,” the lady said, with 
much satisfaction in her tones. Then she talked 
of her plans for her brother’s child for the future, 


80 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 

and when the breakfast was over she led her 
niece out to the grounds that were kept in ad- 
mirable order. The place was in a quiet neigh- 
borhood which boasted of its aristocratic belong- 
ings and of its fine reserve. Miss Pearson, in her 
tastes and also in her sympathies, was an aristocrat. 
She saw beneath the uncultivated surface a some- 
thing in her niece which she thought could be 
interpreted as the fine pride of the Pearsons. 
She was thrilled with the thought that she might 
be able to educate the girl up to the old standard 
and bring out those qualities for which the fam- 
il}^ had been honored. She talked of the past as 
she walked around the grounds and pointed out 
the separate attractions of the lawn. “ This was 
your father’s favorite seat. Here was the spot 
where we read together — there is a tree he 
planted.” 

All this was spoken with that even, firm 
voice which seemed to belong to the stately 
lady’s make-up. Lucy noticed this, and ob- 
served also that much was said of keeping up 
the aspirations and habits of the family. She 
longed to hear a word of tenderness and sorrow 
for the lost brother who was associated with ev- 
ery spot on the beautiful place, but no such word 
came. 

When they returned to the house Miss Pear- 
son spoke of her plan with regard to new cloth- 
ing for her niece, and said, “We may as well 
start out at once, for you need everything new, I 


MAVRICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 


81 


suppose.” Lucy felt the scrutinizing glance 
through and through, and her plain garments 
seemed to become more common in contrast with 
the well-appointed dress of her aunt. 

The day’s experience was a new one to the 
girl ; while listening to the discussions of style, 
as related to her own needs, she began to feel 
that she had been ignorant of all but those 
things that related to the barest necessities of 
dress. In dressmakers’ rooms, in milliners’ shops 
she heard and saw what impressed her with the 
belief that she had no knowledge of a world 
where the ladies who came to inspect the bright 
beautiful things, belonged. 

It is true that the rich, handsome adornments 
captivated her, in a sense, and she was conscious 
of a strange thrill of delight as she saw herself 
in the glass, changed in appearance through the 
help of a becoming hat or jacket. She heard 
the words of the milliner given in an undertone 
to her aunt — “ She has quite an air — and all she 
needs is fitting dress.” A wave of feeling passed 
over her which was so new to her experience 
that it sent the blood from her face and affected 
her strangely. What was this new world — and 
what were its laws, that seemed to have the 
sanction of that eternal law of fitness which no 
one can afford to despise? Was it worth while 
to sit as a learner in its schools? This she 
asked vaguely, and then a sudden recollection 
forced from her mind all else, and this new 
6 


82 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

thouglit was of a lonely, coarsely- clad, hard- 
working woman, whose life had been one of sac- 
rifice. Her aunt saw the expression of perplex- 
ity and pain reflected in the mirror ; the woman 
in waiting saw it also, but what should mirrors 
accustomed only to expressions of eager joy and 
self-satisfaction and weak pride have to do with 
looks of regret or of doubt ? And how could 
the milliner imagine what was passing in the 
mind of the girl who had been so lucky as to 
come under the patronage of position and 
wealth ? 

“ Do you like the hat ? ” asked Miss Pearson. 

“ I think, aunt,” answered Lucy, “ that it is 
beautiful, too beautiful for me ! ” 

She saw and felt, through her aunt’s manner, 
that her words had been offensive to her, but it 
was too late to recall them. Miss Pearson gave 
last orders with regard to the purchase, and left 
the shop. 

“ Lucy,” she began, when they were again 
upon the street, “ why should you think that 
beautiful things do not belong to you? Your 
father’s family have always understood the true 
dignity in appropriate dress ; you will learn af- 
ter awhile, I am sure, its value, and will be 
ready to accept my plans for you in this re- 
spect.” 

Lucy could not summon the courage to tell 
her what was in her heart, and answered evas- 
ively, “ I thank you very much, aunt, for your 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 83 

kindness, but I think it will take me some time 
to get accustomed to the new way of dressing.” 
She tried to be cheerful and interested in the 
plans which her aunt talked of, but she found it 
hard to keep up a show of enthusiasm when her 
heart was away with the past. 

That night, after the shopping and other bus- 
iness of the day was over, and she was alone in 
her room, she reviewed the events of the hours ; 
almost like one in a dream she went over them. 
She would, could she have forgotten the days in 
the little western cottage, have been thrilled at 
the thought of the engagement which had been 
made with a popular music teacher. Music was 
to her a delight, but to-night as she thought of it, 
she seemed to regard it as a something through 
which she would be able to become her own 
supporter, and perhaps thus provide a home for 
the woman to whom she felt greatly indebted. 
Then came the doubt whether she possessed a 
talent in this direction, and if she did how 
would her aunt look upon the idea of her becom- 
ing a music teacher, or in fact, a teacher of any- 
thing ? 

She concluded that it would not be a wrong 
to her aunt to keep her secret, so she whispered 
“1 will keep it faithfully and work with my 
whole energ}^ towards my end, and if I fail, God 
help me 1 ” 

The next week Herr Steck, the German music- 
teacher came, to give her a first lesson. It was 


84 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

his rule at the start to try and impress tlie 
fact that there can be no royal road to the mast- 
ery of the science of music, and that he himself, 
would not allow a student to disgrace the art by 
half-efforts, and that he meant to jealously guard 
the honor of his profession by being watchful 
against tricks of style — and to be careful that no 
musical fancy should pass for musical knowl- 
edge. 

At the close of this first lesson Lucy had that 
sinking of heart that comes from the sudden 
revelation that the goal we would reach is far 
beyond the boundary set by our inexperience. 

At the end of a month Herr Steck said to the 
aunt, “Mees Pearson, your niece haf de way of 
de birds in museec; she follows de ear better 
den de eye. She will not haf de what you call 
it ? ” and he made frantic passes at an imaginary 
obstacle in the way of perfect articulation “ de 
power to use de knowledge; she loses herself 
in de harmony.” 

Miss Pearson gave him a quick glance that 
was full of the pride and also of the scorn of the 
Pearsons. “And how” she asked “did you 
suppose she was to use her musical knowledge ? 
Her music is to be an accomplishment. You 
surely did not suppose she was to teach it? ” 

“ Ah, I see ” replied Herr Steck, with some 
embarrassment, “ de young Mees haf ambitions. 
Dese young Meeses hope after ideas of getting 


MAURICE ROSSMAN*S LEADINQ. 86 

money and fame before they haf tried de 
wings.” 

Miss Pearson did not easily get rid of the im- 
pression made by the Professor’s words. She 
could not help wondering if her niece had so far 
forgotten the family dignity as to confide in a 
stranger with regard to any visionary ideas she 
might have for her future. She remembered 
that her brother Kalph had been independent, as 
well as proud, and she feared what might develop 
itself in his daughter. She however quieted her- 
self with the conclusion — “ It will be soon enough 
to oppose the girl’s fancies in this direction when 
she discloses them.” Accepting this she still 
decided to watch for signs. 

Dalton the home of the Pearsons was a suburb 
of a city, and quite in sympathy with its oppor- 
tunities for intellectual and social improvement 
and within reach of these advantages, whilst it 
enjoyed the privilege of quiet and reserve. Its 
social atmosphere was decidedly aristocratic, al- 
though there were families descended from the 
best, who through perhaps, no fault of their own 
found themselves several stratas below the pre- 
scribed level of Dalton’s first families. 

It may be that this is not a misfortune to a 
place — this departure from the old rule through 
the mixture of poorer blood with the best ; at any 
rate it served to keep Dalton balanced in some 
respects, and made her perhaps a little more 


86 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

human in her sympathies than she would other- 
wise have been. 

Dalton’s church that had been the religious 
home of Lucy’s ancestors, at the time of her 
coming to the place was in a transition state. 
Its old pastor who had for years led his flock 
had closed his labors with his last breath, which 
was a prayer that a shepherd might be sent 
them that would lead them on to green pastures 
and beside still waters. 

After the days of mourning for the good man 
were spent, the church roused itself from the 
stupor of its sorrow to consider the practicability 
of filling the vacancy made by death. Situated 
only a few miles from the center of a college 
city, Dalton was, as has in effect been said, sensi- 
bly affected by it in her thought and aspiration. 
The minister was expected to embody their 
highest aspiration; and if he failed there was 
ready an ideal dress for him, for Dalton’s church 
was never willing to dishonor or think lightly 
of a choice once made for its pulpit. 

Its trustees and deacons consulted the professors 
in the theological seminary over in the city; 
they went also, after the manner of spies to listen 
to pastors in other towns, they heard gray-h aired 
men — middle-aged ones, also young licentiates, 
and began to find themselves much in the condition 
of visitors at the Centennial after a week’s rapid 
sight-seeing. Then they returned and had a 
season of experience with candidates, until one 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 


87 


morning, there rose in the pulpit a young man, 
who with his opening prayer roused the atten- 
tion as it had not been roused for years. 

As he opened his discourse there were few 
who did not feel him to be master of the situa- 
tion, and as he proceeded with it there was a 
general feeling that this was the man for the 
church. He preached for them three consecu- 
tive Sundays, and on the Monday following the 
last of his services a meeting of the “ church and 
society was held to consider the question of 
calling the Kev. Alpheus Lawrence to become 
the pastor of Dalton’s old church. The discus- 
sion was a long and dignified one and was 
honored by the expression of opinion from 
the intellectual and spiritual leaders in the 
organization. Many and varied were the reasons 
in favor of calling the young man to fill the 
high position, and on the whole it might be said 
there was an unanswerable argument for the call. 

Deacon Giles gave as his belief that Pro- 
fessor Wise, of the theological seminary, would 
never have sent certain testimonials if there had 
not been something quite beyond the ordinary in 
the young man. Perhaps it might be said that 
this was the clincher among the arguments in 
his favor, for the name of Professor Wise was an 
authority in high theological circles, and his 
fame had reached the city’s suburbs, and indeed 
had traveled widely and far into other sections 
of the country. 


MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING, 


In due time, and with appropriate ceremony, 
the call was written and sent to the young man, 
and after many days a letter came that was a lit- 
tle discouraging to the enthusiastic, waiting peo- 
ple, for it promised nothing; indeed, the writer 
seemed not to have recovered from his surprise 
at the turn of affairs, yet declared if the Lord 
should finally show him that Dalton was to be 
his place of future labor he would at the sacrifice 
of ease and other.advantages accept it. This kept 
the people anxious and yet hopeful for another 
two weeks, and then a letter came with the news 
that the call was accepted. 

“ I really didn’t know,” remarked the widow 
Morse, “ whether he meant to come or not, he 
showed such an offish kind of feeling, leaving his 
acceptance till the very last line of his last let- 
ter, They say he’s spent a year in Germany, 
and has been made a good deal of over in the 
city; perhaps that is what made him so indiffer- 
ent. I must confess it would have been a little 
more satisfactory to me if he had showed that he 
was pleased with the idea of coming.” But it 
was this very “ offishness ” that gained for the 
minister elect new popularity, and among those 
to whom it was particularly attractive was Miss 
Angelina Pearson, whose word seemed to be law 
in the ambitious place. 

The minister had been preaching several weeks 
in the old church, and his presence in the Pear- 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


89 


son home had become familiar when Lucy ar- 
rived in Dalton. 

The majority of the church felt that Provi- 
dence had singularly blessed them in providing 
them with a shepherd of such remarkable power 
as was possessed by the Eev. Alpheus Lawrence. 
So spiritual he seemed that some trembled as 
they watched him during his rapt hours, fearing 
that his brilliant life would not be long. Some- 
times when he entered the pulpit on Sunday 
mornings it seemed to those who adoringly 
studied him, that his body had been beaten in 
a warfare not of the flesh with flesh. Spirit 
seemed to have conquered matter; the tenement 
seemed unworthy of its occupant. 

His landlady, it must be noticed, took a more 
practical view of the case, and tried to quell 
the fears that possessed those who thought one 
so spiritual had no place upon the earth, by 
divulging the fact that Saturday nights he was 
often up until nearly morning, and that she 
could- hear him as he walked the length of the 
house preaching his sermon, as she supposed. 
The idolatrous people became more enthusiastic 
than before upon hearing this ; a minister who 
laid everything, even the necessities of his physi- 
cal being aside, for his service to his church, 
seemed a man truly sent of God. 

Lucy heard, from her aunt, much about the 
new minister, and thought that he must be be- 
yond men whom she had seen. She, however, 


90 MAURICE R088MAIPS LEADING, 

deep down within her held a reservation in favor 
of Doctor Kossman. What he had done for her 
in her sickness, being something done really for 
the soul, could not be forgotten by her. The 
minister had the gift of fascination to a great de- 
gree, it affected the tones of his voice, the light 
of his eye, the expression of his mouth, his bear- 
ing, and it was really in part the offspring of that 
valuable quality which cannot be long feigned — 
sympathy. 

Let no one who has watched the painting of 
his character so far decide that the Kev. Alpheus 
Lawrence was a hypocrite, or even consciously 
untrue. He had within himself the material for 
a noble manhood, but from his childhood his en- 
vironments had been such that certain elements 
of his nature had been through a forcing process, 
while others had been subject to neglect, so that 
he was in danger of becoming a great, little man ; 
a specimen which for a time surprises and cheats 
itself as well as the world. Alpheus Lawrence 
was cheating himself with the belief that he 
was chosen to bear on high the lamp of truth, as 
few in his age could. But one who had known 
his early history could expect just such results 
as were seen in his character. 

When under twenty, Alpheus Lawrence went 
from his home among the Hew England hills, 
before he had seen anything of the great world 
in which he hoped to become a light, and gave 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 91 

himself to the work of teaching in a western 
town. He became a hero, simply through his 
natural gifts. His persistency, inherited from 
a Puritan ancestry that had compelled success 
to bow to their efibrts towards the best, kept 
him in the course that he had marked out for 
himself. Conquests were frequent and powerful 
wherever he went, and yet it is doubtful whether 
the simple people before whom he stood as 
an authority knew what manner of man they 
worshipped. From the glory of his course 
he was called home by the sudden death 
of his mother, and ere a month had passed his 
father had also given up life, and he was alone 
in the world. His father had left his inheritance 
in charge of an old friend, and how it was lost, 
and how replaced we have already learned 
through the letter written to Doctor Eossman by. 
his old classmate. 

Alpheus Lawrence went into a theological 
seminary and took up study with an honest 
purpose, so far as a half-surrendered man can see 
a true purpose towards the ministry for Christ’s 
cause. He was spiritual minded in a sense, but 
not in the highest, and the people of Dalton in 
not being able to perceive at once the true state 
of the case were perhaps not more stupid than the 
majority of those who having chosen a shepherd 
are slow to find him less than perfect. Each 
one has his own peculiar condition, circumstance, 
or trial awaiting him through which he must 


92 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

be proved to bimself and to tbe world, and some- 
times men pass almost to Death’s door before 
meeting it. 


CHAPTER Y. 

September came to Union City -as a great 
relief after a hot August, and in the young am- 
bitious western town laid a soothing spell upon 
nature, and those who had known and loved 
autumn where its belongings were richer and 
more varied, felt the old subtle influence that 
had wooed them in other years and yielded to 
the fascination of the season in the old worship- 
ful spirit. 

Without the aid of the calendar there are 
some, doubtless, who would be conscious of the 
advent of the autumn, and Maurice Rossman 
was among this number. He was peculiarly 
susceptible to its influence : it was the one sea- 
son in which his nature felt a perfect equipoise ; 
its voices seemed to appeal to his best impulses, 
and to vivify dormant purposes. He said under 
his breath, with the voice of his whole being — 
“ Now I live !” 

As far back as he could remember he had 
been thus affected -by this time of the year. He 
recognized the power of the old spell as return- 
ing from a visit to a patient who lived a few 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING, 93 

miles out of tlie city, he allowed his horse to 
take its own time whilst he lived with a past 
which the autumn fields suggested. He saw 
again the glory of the New England woods as 
he saw it when a boy; he knew every nook near 
and far, that held anything worth seeing or en- 
joying; he followed on from those early delights 
to those of later years when in his travels he 
saw nothing that to him could compare in beauty 
to the changing glory of the woods of his early 
home. 

He raised his eyes and looked off to the hills 
of this, his latest place of sojourn. The lights 
and shadows like playful children were chasing 
each other over them; he felt as he stopped his 
horse on the brow of the hill to take in a dis- 
tant view, the full sway of the season over him. 

A figure rose from a sitting posture, the figure 
of a woman who had been, like Doctor Eossman, 
under the spell of the season and of the hour. 
He did not observe her for some minutes. 

At last he turned his gaze and it met the re- 
treating form, which he recognized as that of 
Miss Emory. 

He urged his horse on and was soon by her 
side. He lifted his hat as he offered her “ good 
evening” and passed on. But when he had gone 
a short distance he stopped and turned about ; 
reaching her, he said, “ Miss Emory I wished to 
ask you to ride into the city with me, but I 
feared I might break the charm for you of this 


H 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


wonderful autumn day, wonderful here even. I 
venture to ask you to take a seat by my side.” 

Maurice Kossman had sprung from the car- 
riage and waited to help her to a seat in it. The 
lady hesitated, but the young man had caught 
an eager expression in her face, then he saw it 
vanish as she replied — “I thank you. Doctor Koss- 
man, I gladly accept your invitation; but I must 
perhaps break your autumn spell by asking 
your professional advice.” 

The Doctor assured her of his pleasure to 
serve her, and offered his hand to assist her to 
her seat, then taking his place by her side the 
two rode on many minutes. Then Miss Emory 

with an apparent effort spoke I have made 

up my mind. Doctor Kossman, that something 
must be done for my mother at once.” With a 
deep blush, and a hesitancy that was very at- 
tractive to the doctor, she added — “ I must tell 
you mm\ in order that you may judge truly of 
the case, much that under other circumstances I 
could whisper to no one.” 

Her voice gained steadiness as she told him 
of her mother’s condition of mind and body, go- 
ing back to the very first symptoms of the de- 
cline of power, mentally and physically ; told all 
as a mother would tell a physician, tried and 
trusted, of the ailments of her child; and when 
she had given all in detail she turned her earn- 
est eyes to his and waited for him to give his 
opinion. 


MAURICE R0SSMAIP8 LEADING, 


95 


It came slowly, for tlie young doctor was car- 
ried out of his professional atmosphere through 
the effect of her words. The impulse seemed 
irresistible to offer himself as rightful guide 
and protector to this lovely creature who was 
ready to sacrifice herself to the welfare of her 
mother. 

He was brought back to the dignity of his 
position by the remembrance which came like a 
sharp thorn to his soul that she was pledged to 
another, that while that tie lasted though only 
in name he could in honor offer nothing but his 
— professional and friendly help and sympathy. 
He could be loyal to his profession surely. He 
nerved himself like a man to give his answer, 
and he told this woman with the child’s heart 
and the woman’s strength, the truth in the case 
of her mother — the truth as he saw it. As he 
proceeded to give his diagnosis, he felt rather 
than saw, that the daughter was overwhelmed 
with grief. At last a sob came forth, then 
another, and another. 

And Maurice Eossman was suffering inward 
anguish as he heard these sobs because he could 
not give his sympathy as his heart would have 
had him. 

With an effort. Miss Emory stayed her tears 
and then with an appearance of calmness, asked 
— “ And what would you advise, Doctor Eoss- 
man?” 

“ Change and diversion,” he answered, adding. 


96 MAURICE ROSSMAN'E LEADING. 

“ you might take her back to the old New Eng- 
land home. (Doctor Eossman’s voice became a 
little husky here.) Her life under favorable cir- 
cumstances might be prolonged for years. Life, 
Miss Emory is precious to all of us, and you 
know that one of my profession is bound to do 
all in his power in helping to save life.” 

“ Thank you,” the lady replied with quivering 
tones. “We trust you, mother and I, may 
I ask that you see my mother and talk with her 
about the change. I can rely upon your tact. I 
know that you will avoid giving a shock to her 
nerves. I leave all to you. Doctor Eossman.” 

He was thrilled by her words of confidence in 
him, while he felt shut away from a heaven of 
possibilities of which' his imagination gave him 
a glimpse. 

He left Miss Emory at her own door, and then 
took his way to the flat, to see how a young 
mother with a sickly baby was getting on. He 
found the mother pale and listless, seeming 
hardly to know whether it were best to take an- 
other breath or to stop breathing altogether. 
Doctor Eossman took the baby from her arms 
and tried to soothe it. Its cry gradually ceased, 
and then the delicate lids closed over the rest- 
less eyes, and the mother gave a sigh of relief, and 
then gave herself up to her tears. 

Truly the sorrowful side of humanity was 
looming up before the Doctor’s vision on this 
perfect autumn day. The old spirit of discour- 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 97 

agement whispered within him, “Why teach 
this mother to try and keep her hold upon 
life?” and “ What promise can you make for the 
future of her sickly child ? ” Again, as in other 
exigencies, came the answer, “ Life is precious ! 
You are not to measure its results! Your work 
is to save it 1 You, through acting well your 
part for body and soul may have an inspiration 
for others. Do what is yours to do!” 

When Doctor Eossman left the poor little 
home the mother gazed after him with an ex- 
pression of gratitude which might have resem- 
bled the worshipful look of the old-time misera- 
ble ones who had been cured by the perfect 
Healer. 

Surely Maurice Eossman was proving himself 
in Union City. And if the proof was coming 
mixed with much pain he surely would not 
murmur at the sufiering if he remembered that 
never a life proved itself without the furnace 
trial. Maurice Eossman knew of all this neces- 
sity only as a theorist; his experience had not 
reached its crowning point, which is a cogniz- 
ance of pain and sorrow as servants to good not 
its master. 

That night after he had closed his office, in* 
stead of taking the direct road to his aunt's, he 
walked on aimlessly, for he had much thinking 
to do. He found himself opposite the Emory 
cottage, he heard Miss Emory’s voice. He stopped 
to listen to her song. The night being a 
7 


98 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

warm one the windows were open and he heard 
her to the end. It was the “ Eest Song ” of 
which her mother had told him. It sounded, in 
view of the probabilities for the future of the 
mother and daughter, very pathetic to him. 
The song ended, then he saw the form of the 
singer as she came forward to close the shutters 
for the night. Doctor Rossman stood motionless 
long after the lights had disappeared from the 
parlor, thinking of the professional advice that he 
had given with his best judgment, and of what 
it would mean of loneliness for himself, if obeyed. 
He owned within his own self honestly, that 
Miss Emory’s presence in Union City had been 
an inspiration to him; he dared not think what 
her absence might be. He turned and walked 
rapidly out of the street ; he chose a lonely way 
where he might finish his reflections. His old, 
free, careless former self seemed to confront him 
like a spectre, with the question, “ Why have you 
cast me off? ” Again the simile in his friend’s 
letter presented to him the “Faun” in happy, 
careless communion with the creatures untram- 
meled by the sense of responsibility, whose im- 
pulses were a law unto themselves. Donatello 
lost his charateristic freedom by a touch of sin — 
how have I touched sin ? Suddenly a sense of 
his ludicrous position struck him, and he seemed 
forced to laugh at himself. Of all the experi- 
ences this of our better-self with its clear judg- 
ment and insight, standing aside to contemplate 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 


with distrust, scorn, or ridicule our weaker self 
is perhaps the most humiliating and sometimes 
makes us doubt our identity if not our sanity. 
He felt that he had been forced into a kind of dual 
consciousness which was not a restful condition 
and perhaps not a sane one. 

A touch of the spirit of responsibility had 
taken from him the old careless freedom ; would 
a full appreciation of life’s work as related to his 
energies bring satisfaction and peace ? 

These questions clamored within him for an 
answer, and as he turned his steps homeward not 
knowing whether he should ever find a true and 
restful solution of them, he felt as never before 
that he must accept the conditions of manhood 
with all its difficulties, sacrifices and woe, rather 
than those of the Faun with all his freedom. 

The next day he made his promised visit to 
Mrs. Emory, and found her alone. “ Alice has 
gone out upon an errand ” the lady said of her 
daughter, adding “ she told me you were coming 
to give me a little advice.” 

The lady went on to tell of her ailments giving 
symptoms in detail. Then, to Doctor Kossman’s 
great annoyance, she discoursed of family matters 
so freely that it seemed dishonorable for him to 
listen. 

He tried in vain to change the current of con- 
versation, especially after the poor, weak woman 
began to* speak of the relations of her daughter 
to the young minister of whom he had heard. 


100 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

“Alpheus Lawrence has gone to preach at 
Dalton in the East. I always thought Alice 
would be married to him after he was settled, 
but she told me the other day that she had no 
thought of marrying, but meant to take care of 
me. I don’t quite see that she couldn’t take 
care of me even if she married. I’m sure I 
shouldn’t make trouble between them. I’ve 
been wondering if they ever will be married. 
They have known each other so long, it would 
seem strange if they were beginning to find out 
at this late day that they were never made for 
each other.” 

Doctor Kossman felt his face burn, he made a 
desperate effort and succeeded in changing the 
subject of conversation. It was not done too 
soon, for he heard the click of the gate and a minute 
after Miss Emory came in. 

She met the visitor with a slight confusion of 
manner, and remarked as she cast an anxious 
look towards her mother — “ I did not expect you 
so early, Doctor Eossman,” then as if to hide a 
meaning which her words might have conveyed, 
she added, “ but my mother of course is better 
able to describe her own symptoms than I am.” 

“Yes, daughter,” replied Mrs. Emory, “I have 
told him all my little ailments, and now I am 
waiting for him to cure me. I think a good tonic 
will set me all right again.” 

The Doctor, with his rare tact introduced his 
plan for the invalid, and so cautiously did he 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


101 


proceed that the lady found herself talking with 
much interest of her old eastern home, and was 
made, through the doctor’s influence to believe 
that a visit to the old home places might be of 
great benefit to her. Doctor Eossman was too 
wise to prolong the conversation too far, but 
promising to call again at an early day, he bade 
the ladies a “good morning” and took his way 
back to his office. 

In two weeks from this consultation the mother 
and daughter were on the way to their early 
home up among the hills of a New England 
village. 

Perhaps some of us have known the time, 
when having been left in disappointment and 
loneliness we have been able to find peace and 
even joy through a memory. Maurice Eossman, 
as he went again to his daily duties had such an 
experience. The memory that lifted and blessed 
him was that of his last interview with Miss 
Emory. He was calling upon the ladies just 
before their departure, and as at the very last he 
took the daughter’s hand he said : “ I should 
like to hear from you with regard to your mother. 
I shall be anxious to learn how my patient gets 
on.” 

She replied, “ Doctor Eossman, we are very 
grateful for your service to us, and I wish to ex- 
press my thought of your work here, among the 
poor especially. Perhaps you may some day 
have stronger evidence than now, that refinement 


102 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

and skill and culture are not lost upon a class 
that seem unappreciative generally, and that to 
cast one's lot in a new country among formative 
conditions, is not necessarily a burial of talents, 
and a dwarfing of powers. Excuse me. Doctor 
Kossman ; I felt I could not go away without 
saying this.” 

Doctor Kossman held for a second the hand 
that did not seem in a hurry to leave his grasp. 
He marked this with a thrill of joy. There was 
a moment’s silence and then the lady went on to 
say, I shall need your advice. I will write of 
symptoms as often as seems best.” 

Doctor Kossman received his first letter from 
her one gloomy evening after an especially try- 
ing day among his patients. It gave an account 
of the journey, and of the arrival in the village 
among the hills ; of her mother's joy at again 
reaching the home of her childhood, and of her 
own hope from the change. She told much, 
but that which the young man wished to learn 
with regard to herself, he was obliged to read 
between the lines. 

After all he was to have something niorethan 
a memory to cheer his loneliness. He was to 
have the hope of the coming of other letters. 

They came occasionally with reports of the 
mother’s physical and mental condition and 
questions with regard to remedies. There were 
also touches of description of scenery, and some- 
times a word or two of personal impressions. So 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 103 

tlie winter passed and spring eame to Union 
City. 

“Maurice,” whispered Mrs. Thorn to her 
nephew one day, “ I am troubled for you ; I want 
a good half-hour’s talk with you; cannot you 
spare that amount of time to me ? ” 

“Oh, my dear aunt,” replied Maurice, half 
playfully — “I know what you would say, I 
guess what you would propose for me ; but I 
really cannot think of taking a rest yet ; when I 
indulge in a vacation it must be one of three 
months, at least, and in that case I must leave a 
man in my office, who has some knowledge of 
medicine, as well as a sense of responsibility. I 
do not see a clear way yet for me to rest. I must 
wait until I do.” 

“But Maurice,” pleaded the lady, “do you con- 
sider that you are sacrificing yourself, perhaps 
unnecessarily?” 

“ It is better that I sacrifice myself than those 
who seem to depend upon me,” replied her 
nephew with as much cheerfulness as he could 
command. 

“ It may be Maurice,” she persisted, “ that the 
sacrifice of self, in your case means also the sac- 
rifice of others. Have you thought of that ? ” 

The young man was obliged to own, at least 
to himself, that he had not thought of sacrifice 
in this light ; he, however did not allow himself 
to dwell long upon the relation of his own self- 
denial to the lives of others ; he had his daily 


104 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

duties to perform — there was the same rouud of 
professional calls to make, and he was kept at 
his post of labor day after day; and the spring 
gave hints of its renewing purpose and then 
there was a first day of sweet surprise, which 
always offers itself to those who have senses 
alert towards nature, a day when although there 
had been many signs, was the day of real 
transformation. 

But Maurice Kossman’s senses seemed to be 
dulled. He, the successful and useful physician, 
needed a physician himself, whether for mind or 
body, who could decide? Indeed Doctor Boss* 
man was fast becoming an abstracted man. 
While he wrote his prescriptions and watched his 
patients, and studied the latest medical theor- 
ies and facts, his thoughts were far away in the 
old places of Hew England and lingered longest 
by the mountains. The letters that came from 
Miss Emory like an occasional angel kept his 
desire alive, but gave no hope that he would 
ever stand in any other relation to her than that 
of her mother’s physician. 

And how passed the time with this sojourner 
among the quiet places? She had become a ser- 
vant to her mother’s wants and growing caprices; 
wherever the poor invalid’s fancy led her, the 
daughter followed. 

One beautiful day, after the spring had set in 
Mrs. Emory said to her daughter. “ I want to 
go down to Boston soon, my child; I must visit 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 105 

the park. I must take the walk there on the very 
first day of May, that I did so many years ago 
when I first met your father. I must go, child. 
I will not be put off! I was eighteen then when 
I first saw your father. I remember how like a 
prince he looked, such a tall, handsome man as 
he was 1 I must be there at three o’clock in the 
afternoon. I want to live that first day of May 
over again.” 

The daughter listened and did not offer an 
objection, but as she thought of helping her 
mother to carry out her purpose day by day, 
she questioned her own identity. Was she her- 
self becoming weak and visionary, and passing 
into senility, whilst her companion grew into 
youth again, and renewed the sweet experiences 
of girlhood ? Life’s conditions surely were mixed 
and unnatural to her. 

They went, at the time decided upon, to the 
city where the mother in visiting, in her girlhood, 
first met the man who became a lover and a 
husband to her. 

“ I want to wear a blue bow at my neck, as I 
did on that day,” pleaded the poor woman, as 
the daughter prepared her for her walk. 

They entered the park, the lady’s eyes were 
bright with excitement as she stepped lightly 
towards the old trysting place ; she pressed 
eagerly on — “We are' almost there,” she said. 
They entered the walk “We are in the walk! ” 
she cried — ^she went on, her daughter following — 


106 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

“There — it was just there where I met him! 
Just where they are I — that young girl and that 
young man.” The two, who were seated upon a 
rustic chair, turned as they heard the words — a 
pair of lovers they were. The rapt look of the 
young man, and the blush of the maiden told 
the secret of the story that down the ages, 
through all time, will have as many versions as 
there are human hearts to beat in rhythm with 
its music. 

The mother’s face was a study — the daughter 
watched it at first with fear, and then with a 
growing awe. The expression that only a min- 
ute before had seemed to reflect the light and 
expectancy of youth, had suddenly changed. It 
was as if the cold gray sky of a winter’s day 
had closed over the azure of a spring morning. 

The face, like such a sky, was cold and gray, 
and the blue bow at the throat seemed to de- 
ride the withered face. 

“ Come, mother,” Alice whispered, “ let us go 
home; you are tired, and it is chilly here.” The 
mother leaned heavily upon her daughter as they 
followed the path away from the spot that so 
many years before had been so glorified to her 
that the reflection of that hour there, had cast a 
glamour over all the years of actual life since. 

“ How cold it is ! ” said the shivering woman, 
“ so cold I and that day was so bright ! So cold I 
So cold ! ” she repeated and her form shook and 
her teeth chattered. 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEAVING. 107 

The daughter was alarmed — “ We are nearly 
there ; it is only a step now, mother, to the board- 
ing house.” Thus the poor girl spoke as she 
might to a little child whose uncertain, lagging 
steps she tried to guide to its home before all its 
small stock of strength gave out entirely. 

They reached their room at last. Then the 
face grown aged so suddenly, buried itself in the 
hands so thin and worn, and with one long burst 
of sorrow the tired soul relieved itself of the 
burden of disappointment. 

A sudden disillusionizing to any one has a 
revolutionizing effect upon the whole nature ; 
but when one has grown old with illusions the 
experience must change for all time the aspect 
of life. 

Alice Emory never wasted words ; even when 
a little child she was mute before a great joy or 
a deep sorrow. It is only a shallow nature that 
relieves itself by babbling ; and hers had never 
been shallow. 

She waited in an agony of grief for her 
mother’s woe to subside, and then as the face, 
pale, yet comparatively calm, was lifted to hers, 
she read from it that all was over for this life ; 
and that only the hope of a heavenly companion- 
ship could henceforth sustain the poor tempest- 
tossed soul. ' 

“ I want to have a little talk with you, my 
dear child,* said Mrs. Emory, when after a few 
hours of rest she seemed calm. “ I have been 


108 MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING. 

thinking so much of my youth that I have for- 
gotten yours, and you — ^you are sacrificing all your 
joys to me. I want to talk with you about your 
marriage. I want to know what Alpheus writes 
to you. I thought that last letter from him 
affected you strangely. I want to know if you 
are sacrificing him to me? ” 

“ No, mother,” answered Alice with suppressed 
feeling. “ Alpheus Lawrence will never sacrifice 
his profession to me — at least” — she added with 
a confusion of manner, “ he wishes to be free 
to devote himself exclusively to the duties of bis 
profession.” “ Did he say that ? ” asked the 
mother. “ No, mother, not in so many words, 
but I gathered it from the letter, and I wrote to 
him immediately, releasing him. I shall never 
marry Alpheus Lawrence, mother ! I would not, 
if he offered with himself the wealth and ease of 
the world.” 

“ Did he consent to a separation, my child ? ” 
asked the mother anxiously. “ Yes, mother; 
he put himself in the place of a martyr suffering 
for duty’s sake.” “But I thought,” persisted 
the invalid, “ that as the good minister over in 
Boston said, ‘ mankind never becomes too pious 
to fall in love.’ He must be very much of a 
priest to despise love, child ! It is such a sacred 
thing” — she added reverently. 

“ I know, I know; I believe as you do, dear 
mother, but Alpheus Lawrence and I have not 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 109 

meant to marry each other; I know it now,” 
replied the daughter gently. 

“ I think dear,” said the mother with a sigh, 
“ that I would like to go back to Keuben’s now. 
Eeuben and you are all I have left in this world. 
Keuben has been a good brother to me. Yes, 
child ; we will start to-morrow for the old hills. 
I can breathe more freely there; and we can see 
so far.” She dwelt long upon the last three 
words ^s if their meaning was sweet to her. 

“We will start to-morrow,” answered Alice 
soothingly, “ and I am sure we shall be happy 
up among the hills through the summer. Then 
you can ride every day and have plenty of cream, 
and the air as you say, mother, is clear, and the 
views are wonderful; yes, we will start to- 
morrow.” 

And so they wandered back to the mother’s 
childhood home. 


110 


MAURICE ROSSMAlSrS LEADING. 


CHAPTER VI. 


As the months went by Herr Steck found no 
cause to change his opinion of his pupil’s musi- 
cal talent. He insisted again and again that her 
music was on the principle of the music of the 
birds, and not a marketable talent. Miss Pear- 
son — the aunt, was not at all troubled to learn 
this fact, and, as often as the musical profes- 
sor assured her that the young lady would never 
make a musician for the public, nor a teacher, 
she told him that she had never entertained an 
idea of a career of any public kind for her 
brother’s child. “ I wish to give her advan- 
tages and means of refinement worthy her 
blood,” was always in effect the end of her 
speech. 

“ But de young Mees she haf a leetle plan, I can 
see,” persisted the professor, as he shook his 
head and sighed over the perplexity of the situa- 
tion. 

The kind man was an odd mixture of strength 
and tenderness. So loyal to the honor of his 
profession that he was willing to make himself 
quite disagreeable if thus he might save his art 
from being misinterpreted or disgraced ; he was 
as tender as a mother towards the aspirations or 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADtNG. Ill 

desires of a young soul that had not found for it- 
self wings, but which was hoping to follow the 
eagle in its flight. Like all those who have 
cleaved the upper air, Herr Steck knew of the 
many who flutter and fail of high flights, and 
his heart felt for such the tenderest pity. 

He knew that the best music of this particu- 
lar pupil would never be expressed, its very 
sweetness and depth and pathos being a bar to 
conventional modes of expression; but he did 
not comprehend that her life environments of a 
repressing character were responsible for her 
singularity as related to music. Who knows af- 
ter all that the birds even express without limit 
the music that is theirs ? 

Herr Steck knew that it would become his 
duty at some trying hour to enlighten the young 
girl with regard to her musical capacity. He 
hoped, however, as most of us hope, to be spared 
disagreeable duties, to be saved from the trial. 

Miss Pearson was beginning to feel that her 
niece possessed, in a marked degree, the peculiar 
traits that had made her father the fascinating, 
noble man that she had believed him to be, and 
had a feeling of pride that Dalton looked with 
admiration upon the handsome, queenly young 
lady, upon whom each opportunity for improve- 
ment told amazingly, when an idea was thrust 
upon her suddenly, and which grew to become a 
conviction, and then assumed the form of a pur- 


112 MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING. 

pose for herself. And this idea was — that the 
minister was in love with her niece. 

As it settled to a conviction, there came an 
awe over her at the idea of a spiritual light, and 
an intellectual giant like Alpheus Lawrence ful- 
filling for her, her hope for her niece. When it 
became a purpose, her practical skill and judg- 
ment forced themselves to the fore-ground of 
her mind that she might save the bud of prom- 
ise from a nipping frost, and herself from a hu- 
miliating disappointment. 

She knew that Lucy had not suspected it, that 
she was, in fact, one of the sort who held such a 
modest view of herself that she could not easily 
be made to believe that she was one to be de- 
sired above the many others to whom she felt 
herself to be inferior. 

The Kev. Alpheus Lawrence was a frequent 
visitor at the home; he had long conferences 
with this old and influential member of the First 
Church at Dalton, and then he was acquainted 
with the best things in literature, and led con- 
versations that became very entertaining through 
his peculiar gift in this direction. I should say, 
however, that the conversation became a monop- 
oly, for the minister seemed quite willing to do 
most of the talking, while the two ladies sat as 
rapt listeners. 

He had a rich voice also, and when he asked 
the young lady to play for him, Miss Pearson 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 113 

always proposed before her niece left the piano, 
that there should be a song. 

Miss Pearson, sitting as an interested listener 
and witness, had a fine opportunity for the un- 
perceived use of her senses, and she made them 
do good service. It was at one of these song 
seasons that the idea first came to her that 
the Rev. Alpheus Lawrence had certain symp- 
toms found only among lovers. 

From that moment she looked upon her niece 
in a new light. She was to fill the responsible 
position of minister’s wife in the First Church at 
Dalton. And what place could any woman 
find of more importance? Thus she thought 
and questioned within herself, and wisely kept 
her own counsel. 

Was she right in her conjecture with regard 
to the minister’s love for her niece ? 

The minister himself if he been questioned 
could not have told. Nothing is so subtle as 
love in its incipiency, and its signs are not uni- 
form; so how could Miss Pearson, an outsider, be 
able to judge correctly upon something, the com- 
ings and goings of which are always a mystery ? 
Perhaps for the very reason that she was beyond 
the influence of love’s glamour she held this 
power to judge. 

Miss Pearson had not seen adoration in the 
minister’s manner for Lucy — she might have seen 
admiration. His character at that time could 
not have been capable of allowing him to adore 
8 


114 


MAVRICE ROSSMAN'S LEAEINQ. 


any woman ; however it might at a future time 
grow to such a condition. 

Lucy adored the minister, but only as a woman 
with a large capacity for reverence adores what 
is high and pure and true as she sees it to be so. 
He seemed to her like one set apart from among 
men to interpret truth not only as it was given 
in the Bible, but throughout the great universe 
— in nature and in the realm of literature and 
art. He seemed to fill her idea of an apostle to 
meek, sinning, immature natures ; to vivify and 
glorify all that had before seemed dead — and she 
exalted him in her imagination the more, as he 
seemed to lay himself upon the altar of sacrifice. 

Self-sacrifice had appeared to her such a sub- 
lime thing, since she had the revelation of the 
transformation of the character of her step- 
mother through it. Through this revelation she 
was fitted to discover other self-sacrificing ones, 
so ready that perhaps she might mistake the 
semblance for the real. 

The minister recognized in this young girl 
with her pure aspirations and simple trust a 
likeness to himself, when at the start he had 
meant to follow the leadings of the Highest, and 
not the popular voice. It has been mentioned that 
he was self-deceived with regard to his motives 
for his professional service, but at the same time 
he was conscious of having left a first estate 
where there was no doubt of the way — no cross- 
ing and recrossing of paths to make comfusion. 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING, 115 

If only at this point there had been a friend 
near to counsel and warn instead of an enemy 
to flatter ! 

Alpheus Lawrence must find the path where 
he first walked if he would walk in the light and 
satisfy the demands of his particular calling. 

Those who have passed the season of youth 
are attracted by a youthful voice, by the light in 
the eye, by a blush on the cheek, for these bring 
back their own youth. It was something that 
the minister saw in the aspirations untouched by 
the spoiling finger of the world in this young 
girl that attracted him, because they reminded 
him of the time when he himself aspired and 
hoped. This was the nature of the minis- 
ter’s attraction toward the niece of Miss Pear- 
son. 

Call it what you will — love, or a sense of com- 
panionship, yet many a marriage has been con- 
tracted with no other basis, and in many cases 
through attrition character has been saved for 
one or the other, from inanity. 

What the world sees to be a desire to choose 
a life-companion for opposite qualities comes 
from the great need of a weak soul — weak in 
some particular quality though strong in others 
— that cries out for help for its weakness. 

The Rev. Alpheus Lawrence had a scorn for 
some particular earthly comforts, and denied 
himself material luxuries like an ascetic, that he 
might allow his mind unusual privileges. Am- 


116 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

ateur florists sometimes put around their grow- 
ing bulbs a sort of paper extinguisher. The 
stalk shoots up in the darkness towards the 
light that is admitted through a small opening 
in the top — it gains height in this way — but not 
breadth, and thus only fulfills one of the partial 
conditions of growth. The minister in a soul- 
sense had put an extinguisher around his nature, 
and although he astonished his people by the 
rapid shooting up of his character he was not 
a pattern of the Christ -man, who was in sympa- 
thy with all phases of experience, who ate and 
drank, and held converse with the world, and 
yet was not of the world. 

This young minister worshipped his own 
power. He meant to give it every chance possi- 
ble for growth. He was selfish in such a deli- 
cate way that the majority of people whose self- 
ishness takes a grosser form could not be ex- 
pected to understand this particular phase of 
the sin. 

But why, a reader may ask, if the man saw 
help and strength in the character of a girl 
like Lucy Pearson, whose excellent qualities 
were yet in embryo, whose character was yet 
in the formative state, could he not have been 
satisfied with Alice Emory, who possessed a 
strength of principle beyond her years — and 
while firm to stand for truth owned a sweet, 
gentle soul? 

Ah, the girl whose character was yet forming 


MAVBICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. U7 

was not beyond tbe pale of temptation I This 
made them like when so unlike. Lucy Pear- 
son’s aspirations were high and pure, yet their 
strength had yet to be tried. 

This held her from being a rebuke to him, 
and kept her from becoming a mentor. 

To see the aspirations of a saint and the possi- 
bilities of a sinner united in one experience is 
well-pleasing to all who not having fought long 
and well for a firm standing-ground hold still 
the middle path. 

When Alpheus Lawrence received the answer 
to his letter, proposing a release from Miss Em- 
ory’s engagement with him, he felt a sense of 
freedom that was almost exultant in its char- 
acter. And if he could have analyzed his feel- 
ings correctly he would have found that a sense 
of his own unwortbiness had a great effect upon 
this peculiar state. 

Miss Emory’s acceptance of his release was 
given in a very delicate manner, yet knowing 
her well the young man was able to discover a 
sarcasm, and a rebuke to himself that for a 
moment stung him to anger, which perhaps was 
merely a disgust with himself for not being 
able to follow the voice that so early in life 
called him to an uncommon manhood, and a high 
single service. 

He felt the truth that the lady expressed 
with so much kindness and tact, that “ they 
were never meant for each other.” 


118 MAVRICE ROSSMAJ^S LEADING. 

He was a free man ! He began early to make 
use of bis freedom. 

One day Herr Steck entered the yard of the Pear- 
son home with a purpose that had been growing 
for a week. 

He found his pupil in a peculiar mood, which 
at first he argued to himself was a conceit of his 
own imagination which had been wrought upon 
by his purpose. 

But when the young girl rose from the piano 
and standing before him, asked, “ Herr Steck, 
when shall I be able to teach, myself V'‘ then 
it seemed that a kind fate had blessed him in 
smoothing the way for him to speak out what 
was in his mind. He ran his fingers along the 
keys, he would have stormed out a tragedy in 
music if the girl had been of a less intense na- 
ture, but he turned sharply and said, ‘‘ You haf 
no need to get money by music I Why should 
you not play as the birds sing always ? 

“ I do not want you to find de museec to make 
you mad and seeck ; keep de museec for a leetle 
heaven always, Mees Pearson. Those who sing 
as de birds should keep de privileege when it is 
posseeble I ” 

“ Oh, but, Herr Steck, I must teach ! I must 
earn money ! I have some one to care for, some 
one to help who has helped me ! ” The profes- 
sor was puzzled. He shook his head. He was 
in doubt how to proceed with his purpose. 
,_“you think I have no musical talent, then? ” 


MAVRICE ROSSMAJ^S LEADING. 119 

the girl asked, with a sudden terror of a possi- 
bility taking possession of her. 

“ Youhaf genius, Mees, but you have not de power 
of telling de best of you. You would be mad 
with yourself if you should give out your best 
museec for money ! But do as you like. I haf 
told you.” 

And Herr Steck took his hat and went out 
hurriedly, that he might escape the sight of a 
disappointed expression upon the young face. 

When he was gone the girl dropped into a seat 
and the tears started — wild first tears of passion. 
She had staked all upon this hope of earning 
money to get a home for the woman to 
whom she felt bound to give help and comfort. 
She dried her eyes at last, and gave her reason 
a chance to assert itself above her passion. She 
thought, or tried to think calmly upon Herr 
Steck’s words. 

She asked herself if there could be truth in 
them, if she would feel this peculiar reserve 
with regard to her best music, if she would hes- 
itate to express it for the sake of gaining 
money. 

It was a fatal hour for the success of her plan 
when she decided that Herr Steck had understood 
a part of her nature. 

“What can I do? ” she asked herself; “shall I 
let the poor woman go on in her loneliness, be- 
cause I cannot sacrifice the feeling for my 
music?” The hour had come for her trial. 


120 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


Which would she sacrifice — the woman to whom 
she owed so much, or the something that seemed 
so sacred? 

Suddenly a thought came amidst the dark- 
ness of her doubt. “ There must be something 
else I can do I How do women who have no 
talent work nobly and accomplish so much ? I 
have no talent — at least no available one — can- 
not I work as other talentless women do ? ” She 
remembered that she had seen somewhere that 
self-sacrifice and love bear the nature of genius in 
many women. “ I can teach something else if I 
cannot do that — perhaps I can sew. I must do 
something.’^ 

She had fixed this decision when her aunt en- 
tered hurriedly and asked : “ Where is Herr Steck ? 
I heard him enter, but have not heard his voice 
for an hour. How long has he been gone? ” 

An ordeal with her aunt was inevitable, and it 
had come without any preparation to meet it. 
She told the whole story of her hopes, and how 
Herr Steck had discouraged her, and then waited 
for her aunt to speak. It was many minutes, 
however, before that lady did speak, for she was 
not given to storming. 

She felt that such a trial had not come to her 
since the girl’s father married the uneducated 
servant of the family. It was well that Lucy 
did not lift her eyes to the face so distorted with 
the meaner passions — it surely would have 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 121 

been a terror to ber bad sbe allowed berself to 
do so. 

At last words came — slow and measured — but 
they were pregnant ones. “ You must cboose be- 
tween me and tbe woman you call mother. Your 
father made a life-mistake. It ruined bis pros- 
pects, it dishonored bis family name, it endan- 
gered tbe family prestige as related to bis child’s 
future. And now when bis sister would try to 
save his child to her father’s family, she forms 
her own little plan to oppose this tender thought 
for her. She would leave her father’s only sister 
to live on through a lonely old age and the old 
homestead to strangers. This is what she will 
do if she persists in her plan.” 

She suddenly ceased speaking. Then Lucy 
with tears of protestation tried to explain her 
position, while she spoke in honest defense of 
her father’s wife. When she had finished, her 
aunt replied: “ I have only this to add — you must 
choose between the woman and me 1 I will not 
be too hard upon you ; I give you one month to 
come to your decision.” And waving her hand 
as she rose, she signified that the conference was 
at an end. 

“One month to decide!” she whispered, 
hoarsely — “ How can I decide what I can do in 
that time? I cannot go back and take up the 
old work — she would not have me do so! How 
can I fit myself in one short month to keep her 
in another way?” 


122 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING, 

The poor girl grew pale, and began to lose 
the sparkle that hope had lent to her eyes, and 
seemed quite another person. 

The minister noticed it, and would have ques- 
tioned her, but a doubt held him back. 

The time was nearly up, when one day a let- 
ter came from Mrs. Thorn, telling her that her 
step-mother was about to submit to a surgical 
operation of a dangerous character, and inform- 
ing her that in view of the possibility of not sur- 
viving it the lonely woman begged to know if 
“the dear girl, Lucy” would come to her. Mrs. 
Thorn added, “Doctor Rossman, who is to per- 
form the operation, has serious doubts as to her 
surviving it — but as there would in all probability 
be a speedy death without it, he has advised it.” 

Lucy took the letter to her aunt — with pale 
face and streaming eyes, she announced her pur- 
pose to go to her mother and to stay with her 
always. 

And what did this proud woman do? She 
took the girl to her heart, cried over her, called 
her “ Dear Ralph’s child,” “A noble, dear girl,” 
but persisted, “ I cannot give you up! You are 
all that is left to me 1 Go to your — to the — to 
Martha, if you will, but come back to me 1 ” 

What was the secret of this strange change in 
Miss Pearson’s conduct? The girl had proved 
herself of superior stuff, she had earned a place 
— a true place among the Pearsons. That saved 
her. Miss Pearson had espoused her cause for 


MAVRICE R08SMA1PS LEADING, 123 

life. The girl went away with the benediction 
of the lady upon her. 

During the long journey from the East to the 
West, Lucy Pearson had ample opportunity to 
reflect. It seemed as if the month that had 
passed had introduced her to a new world of 
thought and purpose. 

She had been obliged to give up a hope that 
had grown to seem almost a part of herself. 
Like the wave that poises itself for a promise of 
power, and then breaks as a thousand other 
waves have, upon the waiting, irresponsive 
shore, and flnds itself absorbed and seemingly 
lost, so it seemed her hope poised once so high, 
had lost itself upon the common beach. 

She had meant to do great things, had meant 
that her work and sacrifice should lie along the 
highest paths, and she had been obliged to be 
convinced that sacrifice must for her wear its 
natural form, barren of beauty, shorn of power. 

Yet according to her light, she had been able 
to accept the thorny way, to mingle with the 
vast throng of women uncrowned before the 
world, who are yet daring and doing in common 
ways, and who, to eyes that are able to see 
aright, have a starry halo around their brows. 

Mrs. Thorn was at the station to meet her 
when she arrived at Union city; and that lady 
could not conceal her surprise at the great 
change apparent in the young lady’s appearance. 
“ My dear girl, you are a delightful surprise to 


m MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

me,” she said, when they were seated in the car- 
riage. “I do not know as I should say that, 
either, for I expected marvels from you, my 
girl.” 

But Lucy felt that there was no cause for self- 
gratulation. She longed to lay her head upon 
the breast of this kind friend and tell her that 
she had come from fierce battles, not as a con- 
queror in the sense that this lady, her friend, 
might understand victory for her. 

But she felt that there were other subjects for 
her words, and she began to ask the particulars 
of her step-mother’s condition. She learned that 
the surgical operation would be performed the 
next day. That Doctor Eossman had been 
waiting for her arrival, and that the danger of 
death was great in the poor woman’s case. 

Lucy would at once have proceeded to the 
home of her step-mother, but Mrs. Thorn in- 
sisted that she was in no condition to meet the 
sick woman, and that a night’s rest would go far 
towards preparing her for the meeting. 

She had taken a bath, arranged her dress and 
joined Mrs. Thorn in the parlor, when Doctor 
Eossman came in. He also, though not in 
words showed his astonishment at the girl’s ap- 
pearance. And Lucy was painfully surprised at 
her kind friend’s worn expression, and emaciated 
form. 

She afterwards spoke to Mrs. Thorn about it 
and the lady confided to her her trouble and fear 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADim. 125 

for the health of her nephew. “ I cannot make 
him take rest,” she added, “ and sometimes I re- 
proach myself for influencing him in his choice 
of a location; it almost seems as if he were an 
exile for conscience’ sake. I believe his con- 
science is a tyrant to him. It gives him no rest 
night or day. He has peculiar ideas with re- 
gard to the responsibilities of a physician ; he 
looks after all the interests of his patients. 
There seems to be no limit to his self-sacrifice. 
The dear boy I Oh, I wish I could help him ! ” 

The next morning Lucy took her way alone 
to the little cottage so full of associations to her. 
As she entered the yard she could have told that 
there was distracting care or trouble within, if 
only from the flower-beds that had been well- 
planned and planted, but which were being choked 
by the weeds. Under other circumstances she 
would have stooped to take in the fragrance and 
beauty of a few that spite of adverse conditions 
were seeming to thrive. But she walked on to 
the door, which she gently opened and entered 
to find her mother seated in a rocking chair, be- 
side her in another chair, an open box. 

With almost a shout the woman rose, ex- 
tended her arms towards the girl, and then fold- 
ing her to herself sobbed long. 

They had a sacred season of confidence. With 
the other world in sight there can be no make- 
believes, no half-truths, no superficial view of 
life’s issues. 


128 MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING, 

Martha Pearson had made careful preparation 
for this hour of trial. The papers laid away so 
methodically in the little box, evidenced it. As 
she explained to Lucy their import and added 
information with regard to the smallest detail, 
the girl marvelled at the wisdom and cool cour- 
age of the woman. 

“I shall not live, at least I am not likely to,” 
said the woman, “ to see the little cottage im- 
proved and the last cent paid, but the money is 
in the bank and the papers are all here ; that 
is a great comfort. I did think of a monument 
at first, but afterwards I made up my mind to 
put a stone, at each grave — besides there’ll be my 
own. I shan’t have quite enough to leave for that ; 
but that doesn’t matter” — and here she hesitated 
— “ I want to ask you, she went on, “ if you will 
see that I am laid next to Margaret’s grave. 
Somehow the child — well I have a strange kind 
of feeling about it — ^you see sister Margaret never 
could get along without me when she lived — 
and somehow it would comfort me to know that 
I could rest beside the dear child. 

“ Perhaps you think I might want to be put 
beside your father. That would not be best — it 
is a long way to the East. And there is your 
mother — and — well I should seem out of place 
in the Pearson lot. 

“ No, my girl, put me beside sister Margaret. 
There is no need for a grave-stone for me. I 
shall be close to Margaret and her grave is under 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADJNQ. 127 

tlie tree in the corner ; remember that, if you 
want to come to the yard sometime — but that’s 
not likely, you will be so far away. 

“ Here is your father’s picture, and the keep- 
sakes he gave me,” she said, then taking up a 
tiny box she opened it with a tender touch ; and 
taking from its cushipned place a ring, she looked 
at it lovingly as she turned it from side to side. 
She held it towards Lucy and — said — “ This was 
the ring your father gave me before we were 
married. I was afraid to wear it after I 
began to wash and iron ; I might have spoiled 
the pearl in it, I mean; this wedding ring I 
want to take with me. Don’t have it taken 
off.” 

When Martha Pearson had finished, there 
was a long silence between the two. Lucy was 
unable to realize that all that had just passed 
was a scene from real life ; it presented itself as 
a tragedy of the imagination. At last she fell 
upon Martha Pearson’s neck and gave vent to 
her overwhelming emotions. 

“ Dear mother, oh, forgive me that I did not 
know how good and kind and true you were 
when you were doing so much for me, so much 
for father, too ! ” 

“ I did you both such a wrong, my child,” the 
mother answered. “ Such a wrong in marrying 
your father. I couldn’t make it right, your 
father couldn’t make it right — it was a great 
mistake — and I’ve thought, my girl, that there 


128 


MAURICE R0SSMAIP8 LEADING. 


can’t be a worse mistake than one like that. It’s 
safe, I’m thinking, to call love— love, and grati- 
tude — gratitude.” 

“ It’s all past now, but you, Lucy, will remem- 
ber this lesson — you will remember it, my girl,” 
she insisted, with an expression of deep anxiety 
upon her face. 

Lucy promised as she would have promised 
almost anything to please the woman who 
might soon be beyond the power or necessity of 
asking questions. Yet if she had considered the 
matter, she would have decided that there would 
never come a time when such a lesson could be 
of especial value to her. 

After a moment’s silence, the woman said, 
while a strange peace came over her fea- 
tures, “ I believe there is nothing else to say. 
All the papers are in this box ; look them all 
over, and don’t miss a word that is written. 
Now I think I’ll rest to be ready for the after- 
noon. Doctor Eossman and that other doctor 
will be here early. I want my nerves to get 
steady. Bead me that psalm which has the 
verse about sitting under the shadow of the Al- 
mighty.” 





MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


X29 


CHAPTER yil. 

“ There seems hardly a breath of air,” re- 
marked Doctor Rossman’s assistant, as they en- 
tered the long, dusty, uninviting street upon the 
flat. The chief surgeon made no answer. 
“ He is lost in thought,” the assistant said to 
himself, as receiving no reply to his remark, he 
turned and looked steadily into the face above 
his. 

But Doctor Rossman, contrary to his idea, was 
not lost to any of the sights and sounds around 
him. Some one has said to the effect that it 
would be a great calamity if the sense of hearing 
should become so sharpened that we could hear 
the sound of the growing of the grass blades. 
There are people at times who seem to realize 
this condition, and Maurice Rossman on this hot 
afternoon was one of them. Indeed every sense 
was ready to do double duty; he was con- 
scious that the air was like a furnace heat, 
that the dust, like ashes that rose in clouds with 
each turn of the carriage wheels, was stifling, yet 
within there was such a fire and a warfare that 
outward discomforts seemed only incidents to a 
great tragedy. 

The doctor beside him noticed a strange light 
in his eyes, and an unusual, set look about his 
mouth. 

9 


130 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 

“He seems like a great commander going 
into battle,” the young man thought, and afresh 
feeling of admiration for this cultivated, fas- 
tidious man who had given his gifts and graces 
to a pioneer practice, rose within him. 

But little he knew at that moment how these 
refinements and fastidious tastes were weapons 
of assault ; nor how heart and flesh cried out 
against the servitude they had so long suffered 
without rest ; nor how as when a fever-struck 
victim in a burning agony sees pictures of foun- 
tains and hears the murmur of cooling waters as 
a mockery to his condition. Doctor Eossman 
saw beyond reach a peaceful path for his soul. 

They reached the cottage, alighted, passed up 
the path between the rows of languid flowers 
showing such evident marks of arrested develop- 
ment, and on, into the house. 

At night the Angel of Death himself passed 
in — and Lucy bending low received the words: 

“It— was all — a mistake — a mistake for me to 
take — your father-from — from-his family — but 
I’ve tried — to be faithful — tried — ” Then the 
features settled themselves for the final rest. 

Mrs. Thorn drew the stricken girl to her and 
and then kneeling, by her side, she repeated 
those words beginning — “God is our refuge and 
strength.” 

The low, poor room became a sanctuary 
then, and the benediction of the Highest rested 
upon the waiting souls. 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 131 

Ah, who can tell of the associations brought 
up by the sight of work-worn hands folded after 
all life’s work is over I” 

Tender and bitter the thoughts come throng- 
ing — ^thoughts of a warm clasp, of offices of love, 
of toil and sacrifice. 

If there comes no ghost of our former erring, 
ungrateful selves, before better things have de- 
veloped in us, none to show us how we slighted 
the labor of those folded hands, then in our hour 
of bereavement we are indeed blest. 

But this ghost did come to Lucy, and thus 
her grief was sharpened to agony as she looked 
upon the thin hands which had served her so 
well. 

After the funeral, Mrs. Thorn took the lonely 
girl to her home. But there was no place given 
for the indulgence of grief, for Doctor Rossman 
was taken down with a fever, and there were 
anxious nights and days of watching and fear for 
him. 

At last the crisis came and he began slowly 
to mend. 

Through all that time of trial Mrs. Thorn 
found Lucy Pearson strong to help and com- 
fort. “I wish you might stay with me al- 
ways,” she whispered to her one day when she 
felt at liberty to forecast. 

Doctor Rossman was very impatient with his 
protracted invalidism, and with gradually re- 
turning health and spirits he began to think of 


132 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

taking upon himself the duties of his profes- 
sion, but Mrs. Thorn urged a reasonable delay 
until he became quite strong. 

The ladies used tact and skill to make him 
forget the cares of his profession, and succeeded 
as well as could be expected with a nature so 
energetic and persistent as that of their patient. 

In most of his caprices the Doctor was hu- 
mored, and if he wished a song, he had 
it, or to listen to a certain author he was given 
that privilege. Sometimes Mrs. Thorn read, 
sometimes Lucy. 

One morning when he was in the library with 
the young girl, he said, “ I have been thinking 
for a few days past that I should like to hear 
the ‘Marble Faun’ read. I read that book in 
Kome; I read it here in Union City after re- 
ceiving a letter from a college friend, who made 
an allusion to the character of its Donatello, at 
the time I was a novice in the practice of my 
profession, and now that I find myself in a new 
condition I should like to find my impressions 
of a third contemplation of it.” 

Lucy took the book from its place and sit- 
ting down, began with her expressive voice to 
read. 

Day by day the reading session was held, and 
Doctor Kossman found that its reading to him 
presented revelations according to the newer ex- 
perience of his soul. It was not, in a sense, 
the story he had read in Kome where he could 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 133 

stand in the several spots where the separate 
conceptions were formed. 

One day Lucy came to a particular passage 
where the listener requested her to stop for a 
minute. 

“ Please read that again,” he said after a few 
minutes of meditation, and she read — “ Perhaps 
it is the very lack of moral severity ; of any high 
and heroic ingredient in the character of the 
Faun that makes it so delightful an object to 
the human eye, and the frailty of the human 
heart.” 

‘•That is it,” he murmured; “that luck is a 
passport to society, to favor, to success, as the 
world understands success. When one begins 
to follow on towards the higher path — begins 
to gain this moral severity, he puts himself be- 
yond the pale of the world’s fellowship, and 
challenges criticism at every step of his onward 
following.” 

Then he did what he never would have done 
if the weakness from his severe sickness had 
not been so great: he gave Lucy his inward 
experience, or a part of it, with regard to the 
call of conscience to an all-demanding responsi- 
bility. Did he expect help from her? He 
hardly analyzed his motive ; he was not in a 
normal state to judge aright if he had. 

She listened, and when he had finished, she 
met his asking gaze with a look of pity. That 
was all. 


134 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 


The first day that he was able to walk beyond 
the home threshold Lucy went with him out to 
the lawn. She measured her pace by his lin- 
gering step and marvelled that one so powerfully 
built should have such a slow recovery o They 
went to a rustic seat under the vines, and Lucy, 
wrapping a shawl about the broad shoulders, 
took her seat by his side. 

September had come — the time when nature 
seems to pause to admire herself, when she still 
wears her most attractive appearance. It was a 
sensuous day, a day that suggested a revel of pas- 
sion, or a crowning of peace, according to the 
condition of the beholder. 

Doctor Kossman, as he sat there and looked 
upon the beauty about him, was overcome with 
the proofs of his weakness ; his whole nature 
called out for help. The girl by his side was 
strong in her youthful powers — seemed so thor- 
oughly alive, mind and body, that to him she 
seemed almost a being from another sphere, so 
vivid was the contrast. 

He thought on and on, and as usual Lucy hu* 
mored his mood, he thought of the girl’s care of 
him during his sickness, he wondered how he could 
best express his gratitude to her. A bird 
answered its mate with a thrill that held the es- 
sence of sweetness. Alas, September, your pe- 
culiar influence has encouraged more illusions 
than are ever owned I Doctor Eossman offered 
his life to the girl beside him then and there. 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 135 

It was at least five minutes before Lucy found 
strength to speak. Then she said slowly in speech 
that was charged with feeling, “Doctor Koss- 
man, you do not mean it! You ought not to 
mean it! You are weak and not yourself 
If it were only that you mentioned your grati- 
tude to me I could not accept your high favor. 
If I had not known of another experience — 
where gratitude called itself love, and brought in 
consequence pain and trouble, I could not accept 
the offer you have made me. I know you do 
not love as you are capable of loving. I know 
— I know, or rather I imagine, what a worship 
and a rest, a proper channel for you love might 
give. 

“Oh, Doctor Eossman, do not put me away 
from my place as a friend ! I owe you so much 
— you made me feel first that there was some- 
thing noble in life — something worth living for. 
Say you take it all back ! Say you did not 
mean — say. Doctor Eossman, that you love an- 
other ! ” 

An hour afterwards Mrs. Thorn saw the two 
coming towards the house, and said to herself as 
she peeped through the half-closed shutters, 
“ Well, I did think, but I don’t know, after all,” 
which remark showed that she had not gained 
consummate skill in match-making. 

That night Doctor Eossman’s dreams were 
night-mares, and in the morning he was impressed 
with the memory of a vision — a part of the 


136 MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADINQ. 

night’s experience — the vision of a sad, patient, 
sweet face with a heroic expressioo, a face that 
came as a rift of blue between clouds — or a rain- 
bow after the rain — a face he had not seen for 
many, many months. 

And Lucy ? Did she picture a form that stood 
in the Dalton pulpit? And did she hear a 
strong musical voice as it delivered its wonder- 
ful message to the people ? 

She was bewildered when she opened her eyes 
upon the morning. It all seemed a strange 
dream — this experience of the arbor. Doctor 
Kossman — the great doctor who had seemed so 
grand and good to her to offer himself to her ? 
She went back three years when he first told her 
it was worth while to live ! 

Then as she rose and arranged her dress she 
felt glad to remember that Doctor Kossman had 
said he would take it all back, and that it should 
seem as before he had spoken. 

That day she consulted Mrs. Thom with re- 
gard to the grave -stones. She thought of her 
mother’s words with reference to the papers in 
the little box. She found an allusion to a will and 
in speaking to the lady with regard to it, she was 
told that Doctor Kossman had been given the 
charge of affairs and that the little house was to be 
sold and the money it brought was to go to 
herself. 

“ Then there shall be a monument above her 
grave I ” Lucy cried in almost exultant tones. 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 1^7 

To follow the directions given in the papers, 
to have everything done as had been directed 
by the heroic woman who was gone ; this was 
her care before leaving Union City, perhaps for- 
ever. 

It was the last of October, and Lucy with 
Mrs. Thorn and Doctor Eossman was returning 
from a last visit to the grave-yard, when Mrs. 
Thorn remarked : “ Maurice, I have a plan for 
us all ; you must make one of a party to the 
East. Lucy and I will comprise the remainder 
of it. She goes home next week ; a trip would 
do wonderful things for you ! ” 

He did not answer. She went up to him and 
putting her arm within his, pleaded, “Now, 
Maurice, do not disappoint me ; I wish to go ; I 
will not go without you ! Maurice, will you deny 
me the pleasure of seeing old New England’s 
forest glory ? The beauty will not be gone if 
we go at once ! Maurice, you will go ? ” 

The young doctor was asking himself if he 
should stifle the sudden wild longing that had 
risen within himself, or whether he should allow 
himself an abandon they had not enjoyed since 
he left Home. 

“ I will think of it. Aunt,” he said, at last, 
“ and if I can see a clear way I will go ! ” 

The next week the three started. The two 
parted from Lucy at Dalton and took their way 
to the early home of both. 

After they had been there a week Maurice 


138 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

said, “ Aunt, I have made up my mind to start 
for New Hampshire to-morrow — will you remain 
here or will you go with nie ? 1 have received 

a letter from Miss Emory that presents her 
mother’s condition as more than usually serious, 
and the poor lady is continually asking to see 
me! ” 

“Go, Maurice, without me!” Mrs. Thorn 
answered, “ I am rejoiced to know that you are 
willing to go to the poor woman. If you had 
known her in the full possession of her powers, 
and had listened to her entertaining conversation 
as I have you could realize more fully what dis- 
ease has taken from her and how hard it is for 
her daughter Alice to endure all. Maurice, that 
girl is one among a thousand! She has sacri- 
ficed much and long, she has sorrowed greatlj'^ ; 
but through all her trials there has been har- 
monious development in heart and intellect. 

“ I speak of her experience because it is so 
often the case that trials and repressions and 
sacrifices weaken or distort the character; sweet- 
ness or strength, or power is lost in the tumult, 
and the worst of it is — the world seems to regard 
this as a necessary result of trials.” 

Maurice Kossman, as he listened to his aunt’s 
words felt their force and realized his own dis- 
tortions through personal sacrifice. He would 
have endorsed her words of praise for Miss 
Emory, but he remained silent. 

Once started upon his journey, he felt like a 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 139 

new being; be was tbrillcd with expectant 
thoughts, though if he had reasoned with him- 
self he could have found no adequate cause for 
his feeling. Going to look upon disease which 
must speedily end in death, was this a pleasant 
prospect ? ” 

To have a few words with the daughter, who 
was the promised wife of another; could any sat- 
isfaction to his soul be obtained from such an in- 
terview? He did not reason, he dared not; but 
for once he allowed his imagination to hold sway. 
Ho not call him a fickle man if I say that the 
nearer he came to the mountain village the more 
his longing soul asked for the one woman who 
had given his soul its best impulses and had led 
him on to interpret the meaning of his profes- 
sion. His real desire had never swerved from 
this its first object, — this woman, who he be- 
lieved, was placed forever away from the prov- 
ince of his hope. 

Lucy Pearson’s words of refusal seemed a 
mirror by which he saw his owu motives in a 
clearer light. 

He saw, too, that her wise arguments held a 
more practical philosophy than he had been able 
to gain through all his years of study. He 
thought with shame of how after showing the 
girl in her despair, that there was room for hope, 
and that life might be found worth living, he had 
tempted her to accept from him a semblance of 
love born of his own sickly imagination— a love 


140 MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 

whicli with his returning strength he had begun 
to see was just what the girl with her healthy 
instincts had decided it was — “only gratitude.” 

He had tried to help her when she was sick 
and morbid, and she, had she not in return saved 
him from an unnatural sacrifice? Had he not 
received far more than he had given ? 

Then his aunt’s words months before, with 
regard to self-sacrifice — when he had declared 
his belief that his life was his own, to save, or 
to sacrifice at will. In recognizing the truth in 
its most awful force that he must use every pos- 
sible means to save even the most miserable and 
burdensome life he had neglected to respect his 
own individuality, in breaking the law, even in 
one small particular, he had found himself out 
of harmony with the perfect system of economy 
which embraced all thought and all purpose, 
whether in the domain of physics, or of meta- 
physics. 

The experience that sends us out of the old 
gloom does not always place us in running or- 
der in the new : time devises many ways and 
means according to our particular need to ac- 
complish this. 

* ****** 

Uncle Keuben Devine, the brother of Mrs. 
Emory, was a true child of nature. Though in 
his youth he was given opportunities of ac- 
quainting himself with the thoughts of both an- 
cient and modern philosophers, he believed that 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 141 

the “simplest things were the highest,” and 
never was so attracted to what he found in books 
as to what nature was ready to unfold to his 
wondering, admiring eyes and teachable soul. 

To him nature had her “ whole truths, half 
truths, and quarter truths,” according to the 
spirit he brought to her. 

It was a week before the day set for the 
Thanksgiving in New Hampshire — one of those 
bright, beautiful days of which November is 
sometimes so prodigal, when “ Uncle Eeuben ” 
said to his niece, “ Alice, child, it is glorious out 
on the hill, and from the * Lady’s chair,’ there’s 
such a picture of the hills and of the valley be- 
low. Will you go out with me before the air 
gets chilly ? ” 

Alice noticed something peculiar in her uncle’s 
manner, but she answered quietly “Yes, uncle, I 
will go.” And taking her hat and shawl followed 
him in the path over which from his boyhood 
he had passed, to the rock where he had found 
communion and peace from the contemplation of 
the world of life and beauty around him. 

“Was the view ever more glorious?” he 
asked as he seated his niece in the “Lady’s 
chair,” and took a seat upon a rock beside her. 
“ I have been bringing back to-day,” he con- 
tinued after a short silence, “ those young days 
when your mother was here with me and she 
was my sweet sister Aggy.” 


142 MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 

“She learned to love and to know what I 
loved and knew in nature.” 

“ We’ve watched old Nature in her every mood 
from this rock, in sun and shower we found 
pleasure in looking upon her face.” 

“So many times we came out to watch the 
coming on of a storm. Aggy was afraid at such 
times. She would hide her head under my 
jacket when it thundered, such a pretty head 
she had, too, and once when I whispered ‘ it*s 
over Aggy, look up ! ’ she asked “ Does God say 
it’s over, Aggy look up?” I’ve thought of it so 
many times since, and of late — when I’ve made 
up my mind that she must leave us soon, I’ve 
brought to mind the approach of those storms 
and how the little head sheltered itself, and the 
sweet smile when at my words — ‘ It’s over, look 
up ! ’ she asked if God said it. And it has 
seemed as if we had been in such a storm, and 
now that the dear sister — your mother, has come 
out from all of earth’s places of refuge to ask and 
to answer the old question — Your mother, dear 
girl, seems to have taken up again a child’s ex- 
perience — the trouble is really over for her — 
She is looking up and seeing God’s smile.” 

“ I’ve wanted to talk with you about her going. 
She will never leave the old first home — I think 
— and dear child, you will let me take care of 
you — I have nobody but Polly, my kind good 
wife, she loves you and needs you. 

“You will not leave us — ^your mother has 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING. 


143 


told me all all — well perhaps you won’t like 

to have me say it — but she’s told me about the 
cuttings-up of that young priest who thinks 
himself too holy to love. Too holy to love ! ” 
Alice laid her hand upon his, and with a pained 
expression exclaimed “Oh Uncle! It would 
have been sacrilege for us to marry. We were 
not made for each other ! ” 

“ What sort of a man is this Doctor Rossman 
for whom your mother has sent ? ” he asked as 
if the words were involuntary. His niece 
colored and then answered, “ A very conscien- 
tious, cultivated gentleman who has proved him- 
self in Union City. I think. Uncle, people trust 
him instinctively, he seems to carry the proofs 
of manhood in his face.” 

“ Well, Alice,” Uncle Reuben began again — 
“You did not promise to be my Alice and to let 
me take care of you, and to give up all thoughts 
of going back to that western County where 
there’s no scenery, and where there are no as- 
sociations. 

“ You mistake, uncle,” said the girl, her eyes 
still resting dreamily upon the picture of mount- 
ain, vale, and stream ; “ we have scenery — ‘ the 
bluffs,’ when in the spring they first begin to 
clothe themselves with green beauty, and the 
glorious, life-giving air, and the marvellous sun- 
sets, we can make of them much if we will. 
And, uncle, it grieves me to refuse your kind 
offer, so long as dear mother lives I shall be 


144 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

glad to stay with you — and oh, how I long to be 
cared for by your kindness always through a 
loneliness that may come to me, and long to care 
for you and Aunt Polly, but dear uncle, I have 
a work to do, the new country calls me ! I 
think, Uncle Eeuben, if I am left to myself I 
shall study medicine ! I shall learn to be a phy- 
sician, one has such a chance to use all the pow- 
ers God has given in such a profession ! ” 

Uncle Eeuben’s astonishment shocked him 
into silence. A niece of his to become a doctor I 
A strange fear took hold of him. “ Is she fated 
to go the way her mother is going ? ” he whis- 
pered. 

It was many minutes before he could trust 
himself to speak, and then he asked, “Dear 
child, do you know how hard it is for a woman 
to face the world ? ” 

“ Yes, uncle — at least I imagine that it would 
be very hard to face the world’s prejudice and to 
feel the loneliness that comes from a want of 
sympathy ; very hard, uncle.” 

And the sweet womanliness of the face that 
mirrored a heart made for love, brought from 
“Uncle Eeuben” the explanation, “Alice, my 
girl, you would be an angel of help and comfort 
to a man worthy of you I ” 

Alice was silent, and after a few minutes, 
when her uncle cast his eyes upon her face, 
there seemed to be a moisture about the tender 
eyes. 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 145 

They rose at length and went slowly into the 
house. ‘‘Aunt Polly” meeting them at the door 
with floured hands from the Thanksgiving pie- 
crust, said excitedly, “You’ve been gone a long 
time, it seems to me ! Alice, your mother has 
been very uneasy. She is so anxious about the 
Doctor’s coming! and Keuben, you had better 
harness up Lightfoot and go down to the post- 
oflice, and see if a letter has come from him.” ' 

Alice did not linger, but passed directly to her 
mother’s room. 

“ Dear child,” the pale, worn-looking woman 
said, “ come sit close to me, and don’t leave me 
any more ! Take my hand, child ! Have you 
heard from the doctor ? ” 

Alice was startled by the sudden change in 
her mother’s appearance, but she commanded 
her voice into steadiness, and replied, “We have 
not heard, but Uncle Eeuben is going to the 
post-office now in time for the evening’s mail.” 

The words seemed to soothe the mother, and 
closing her eyes, she lay quietly dozing, her 
daughter’s hand in hers, for nearly an hour. 

Uncle Eeuben was not long in putting Light- 
foot on the village road — nor did she lag until 
she brought up before the low building in front 
of which were those who were expecting letters 
themselves or were anxious to witness their re- 
ception by others. 

As Lightfoot came to a halt, one of the 
loungers stepped up to the wagon and said, 

10 


146 MAURICE ROSSMAETS LEADING. 

“Well, Uncle Eeuben, you are just in time: 
there’s been a man — a city gentleman, I should 
say — who inquired the way to your house. 
You must have come by the cross- path, or you 
would have met him. I directed him the 
straight road.” 

Uncle Eeuben gave a nod of thanks and 
turned his horse’s head homeward. He had not 
gone far on the direct road before he saw a tall 
figure ahead. 

He urged Light-foot and soon gained it. He 
knew instinctively that it was Doctor Eossman. 
And when the strong face was turned to his he 
felt throughout his consciousness. He's a man! 

It was not many minutes before they were at 
the house door, and “ Polly,” taking off her 
baking apron and washing her hands, w'as called 
by her husband into the front room to meet the 
stranger. 

It was not long after the introduction before 
she had made him acquainted with the situation 
of his patient, and how the “ poor dear, patient 
girl ” had watched and tended her. “ But come 
right in here. Doctor Eossman,” added the brisk 
little woman — “ come softly and look at the 
poor lady while she is sleeping,” and she led the 
way into Mrs. Emory’s room, where Alice sat 
beside the bed, holding her mother’s hand, en- 
tirely ignorant of the Doctor’s coming. 

Doctor Eossman had come many miles to 
answer his patient’s call, but as he entered the 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING, 147 

room where she lay, his eyes did not first 
seek her face but gave an eager, yearning, pas- 
sionate glance to that of the young watcher be- 
side her. 

Miss Emory rose; not a word escaped her 
lips as she came forward and gave her hand to 
him. He marked how the flush followed the 
sudden pallor of her countenance ; how a light 
for a moment covered the sadness of her eyes, 
and above all the expression of relief that set- 
tled upon her features as beckoning him to the 
parlor she sat down and told him the particulars 
of her mother’s invalid experience during the 
last month. 

Aunt Polly after an hour came in to summon 
the doctor to Mrs. Emory. “ I have prepared 
her for seeing you,” the kind woman said, “ and 
I think she will not be surprised or excited.” 

But when Doctor Kossman entered the room 
the sick woman raised herself in bed, stretched 
her weak arms towards him as an overjoyed 
child might and whispered : “ Oh, Doctor Koss- 
man! I’ve wanted you so long, so long! I wanted 
you months ago — but Alice didn’t like to trou- 
ble you. And when I knew you had come 
East then I said I wouldn’t be putoff any longer. 
I’ve so much to say ! ” and she sank exhausted 
upon her pillow. 

The doctor soothed her as he might a sick 
child, and sat giving her whispered comfort un- 
til she sank into a sleep. 


148 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

“Reuben,” said “Polly” to her husband, 
“ what a voice, and what a face ! He’s a man every 
inch of him ! A man with a woman’s heart.” 

“Yes,” Polly answered Reuben, “one only 
needs to look into his eyes to see that he’s some- 
thing uncommon.” 

“Well as to that,” answered the wife, “I 
shouldn’t have ventured to look into his eyes, 
perhaps it’s a kind of profanity for me to say what 
I’m going to, but I have the same sort of feeling 
about taking a full look at such eyes as his, as 
I’ve always thought I should have about a first 
look at the streets of gold when I get to heaven. 
I think I shall have to get gradually used to the 
light, giving only a glance at first.” 

“Well, well, Polly,” replied “Uncle Reuben,” 
“ you are getting a little poetic. But it’s well 
said, very well said, Polly ! ” 

“I want to have a long talk with Doctor 
Rossman,” said Mrs. Emory to her daughter. 
“ I feel strong now. Will you tell him to come ? 
I want to see him alone.” 

An indefinable fear took hold of Alice as she 
heard her mother’s wish — a fear that might have 
shaped itself into the words “ Will she in her 
weakness disclose my secret? ” 

She heard Doctor Rossman go into her mother’s 
room, she heard the door close behind him. 
She went to her own room and sank upon her 
knees. She clenched her hands in an agony of 


MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADINQ. 149 

fear; then the hot tears came and though they 
were scalding tears, they were a relief. 

A half hour passed. Aunt Polly was at the 
door. “Doctor Kossman wishes to see you in 
the parlor, Alice.” 

Not another word passed between them, and 
when her aunt had closed the door, the girl 
rose and bathing her face to hide the signs of 
her recent passionate tears, she slowly went 
down the stairs. 

As she opened the parlor door Doctor Ross- 
man met her, took her hand and led her to a 
seat, seating himself by her side. 

She waited with downcast eyes for him to 
speak. 

“ Miss Emory,” began the man’s voice, “ I 
have to present the wishes of two persons for 
your decision. Your mother’s and mine: you 
will pardon me if I present my own first.” 

Then he forgot his studied phrases and poured 
out his heart to her. “I love you I I always 
have loved you ! I always shall love you, no mat- 
ter what your decision may be,” he said, passion- 
ately, “ I should never have told you my secret 
if I had not learned from your mother that you 
are free to choose ! ” 

“ Oh, Doctor Rossman ! ” she cried, as she cov- 
ered her face, “she told you then ! ” 

“And gave me a chance to gain or lose all,” 
he added. “ Miss Emory, tell me if I must lose? ” 
He took her hand as he questioned in both his \ 


150 MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 

she lifted her wet eyes to his, and the Doctor, 
never a man to presume without evidence saw 
an answer that opened a heaven of possibility to 
him. 

However, it was not until Miss Emory had 
whispered confidingly, “ I think. Doctor Eossrnan, 
we were meant for each other,” that he really 
felt sure of his prize. 

“Shall we go to your mother to learn her 
wishes? ” asked the doctor, when he had recov- 
ered from the bewilderment of his first rapture. 

She took his offered arm, and thus the two 
entered the sick-chamber. He — radiant with 
his new joy, she — calmly happy in its reflection, 
for as yet she had not become adjusted to her 
new sense of happiness. 

The mother gave a glad exclamation as they 
came forward. “ He’s to be your husband, my 
child ? You are to be married on Thanksgiving 
day.” In this way she learned her mother’s 
wish. Is it a dream? she asked, when an 
hour after she sought her room to collect her 
senses and find, if possible, her mental bearings, 
she could hardly tell. 

She thought it all over, brought to mind what 
she had told her Uncle Reuben with regard to a 
life-work, as a physician, wondered what had 
become of her strength of purpose ! 

She also pondered upon the little secret Doc- 
tor Rossman had disclosed with regard to his of- 
fer of himself to Lucy. 


MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING. 15 l 

She believed in his sincerity and manhood, 
and deep love for herself, in spite of the mistake 
through physical weakness. Why should she 
not have a little forgiveness for her own seeming 
fickleness? 

The light of her new hope began slowly to il- 
lumine her whole soul. She saw her life glori- 
fied through a union with a man with a high pur- 
pose, and she saw herself the silent, yet efficient 
partner in a profession that would call into ac- 
tion the best energies of the soul. 

Uncle Reuben had learned the happy secret 
of the two, and had since been watching for a 
chance for a word with his niece. 

He met her as she came down the stairs, 
caught her in his arms, and then holding her off 
at arm’s length, looked into her face, which was 
covered for a moment with love’s confusion. 
“How is it,” the delighted uncle asked, “that 
you’re willing to give up a life-purpose for this 
man, who is young and strong, and has the 
world from which to make his choice, and to 
leave a poor old man like me to my loneliness 
and want?” “You have Aunt Polly,” she an- 
swered, and then, “instead of practicing for my- 
self, I am going to be a partner in the profession 
— and then — and then. Uncle Reuben, I think 
we were meant for each other.” 

“I am sure of it! sure of it!” cried the 
man, gleefully — “he is a man who will honor a 
profession, and honor a wife. Take my bles- 


152 MAURICE ROSSMAIf'S LEADING. 

sing,” he added, solemnly, as his large hand 
rested lovingly upon the soft hair. 

They were married by the bedside of the 
mother on Thanksgiving morning. At the con- 
clusion of the impressive ceremony the husband 
and wife knelt, while a wasted hand was placed 
upon the head of each, and the mother’s love 
and blessing were faintly whispered. Doctor 
Kossman that day raised the dying woman’s 
head, and casting a last tender look upon her 
children, she was forever at rest. Then Uncle 
Eeuben said, “It is all over for her, all the fear — 
all the sorrow. Let us look up ! ” 

***** 

It was a strange wedding journey of Doctor 
Eossman and his bride, as they bore the remains 
of the mother back to the western burying- 
ground — but the two were happy in their love, 
and happy that their loved one had laid by her 
trials. 

“ My dear,” said the doctor to his wife, — “ I 
believe I am just beginning to understand the 
larger meaning of the truth that ‘ perfect love 
casteth out fear.’ The mother who adopts a child 
may question whether she is doing all she 
should for it, but for her own child a woman is 
conscious only of her deep and strong attach- 
ment. She has no room for doubt. 

“ If I had been wholly in love with my pro- 
fession I do not think I should have been goaded 
on to desperation as I have been for fear of miss- 


MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING. 153 

ing a duty. I should have worked calmly in the 
consciousness of my devotion jto it. You, my 
dear Alice, who taught me to take a high view 
of the profession, have brought me, through your 
life and tlie crowning gift of your love, to the 
‘height where lies repose.’ You are my bless- 
ing !” 

They went to their duties — to labor to love 
and to find fruition, and to watch with the inter- 
est of those, who bringing courage and patience 
and enthusiasm to the West, have given it its 
promise of becoming a mighty region ; thus they 
found joy in Union City. 

The marriage of the two seemed to Mrs. 
Thorn a wise arrangement for both and she 
whispered, “ Dear Maurice, his nature demanded 
a woman’s love and influence to keep it bal- 
anced. Poor boy ! He never knew a mother’s 
care, and he has missed something always! He 
will carry on my husband’s work, I am sure ! ” 

She reasoned like a woman with regard to 
woman’s influence, though perhaps she was 
right, for Doctor Kossman never more wore the 
look or the manner of one whipped into service 
for his profession, yet I am inclined to think that 
as a conscientious follower after truth, he 
would even in loneliness have found the path that 
led to light at last. 

Lucy Pearson never had what might be called 
a career, — yet her life found itself in a current of 
circumstances that was powerful to carry with it 


154 MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 

weak elements until at last they found themselves 
launched on a broad open sea. 

The women without talents that are market- 
able for money, or public applause, do not get 
into books often as heroines, and yet there are 
enduring records of their lives that are as sug- 
gestive of fragrance as is that of the woman who 
poured out the ointment. The record reads 
“she hath done what she could.” 

Lucy Pearson married the minister — Alpheus 
Lawrence — believing him to be almost without 
faults, and when she became disillusionized she 
was held to her loyalty by the strength of her 
love. 

In the hour of her deepest need when she 
found her idol clay; when she would seek from 
creatures no sympathy, the vision of Martha 
Pearson’s toil and sacrifice, after the discovery 
that nearly broke her heart, proved to her that 
a woman’s crown is woven through self-sacrifice, 
and loyalty to simple right. 

Alpheus Lawrence was not always to wear a 
mask in the presence of his highest aspiration. 
There came a time when his lower self stood re- 
vealed before his higher,and this happened during 
a revival, when one of his church who had been 
formed for nobler things, and who for years had 
been holding his reserves from truth, and had 
thus been if^ half-follower, came to the minister 
with the agony of a clear view of himself. 

Alpheus Lawrence felt then for the first time 


MAURICE ROSSMAITS LEADING. 156 

the awful gulf between a perfect consecration 
and a half-consecration. He went down before 
his God a penitent among the penitents, and when 
the fruits of the revival in the old First Church 
at Dalton were gathered in, the young minister 
stood forth as one of those who was saved from 
his lower self. 

Lucy Pearson never allowed her music to be- 
come her lost art, she fulfilled the Herr Profes- 
sor’s prophecy that she would “ sing as de birds.” 
Her music possessed to a rare degree the char- 
acter of adaptation. Like that of the birds, it 
had qualities for storm or for sunshine, for 
morning or for evening. It became a great 
factor in the success of the Dalton ministry 
for the young, the old, the glad and the sorrow- 
ful felt its peculiar influence and were lifted to a 
conception of the higher harmonies of their na- 
tures. Often, the devoted wife of Alpheus Law- 
rence felt happy to assure herself that she had 
reserved her gift from the world’s market, and 
had kept it as a costly, fragrant love-offering. 

“Aunt Pearson” has somewhat softened with 
age, though she still holds stern ideas with re- 
gard to family traditions and the like, yet 
Luc3^’s children love her and are happy to 
listen to her stories, and this fact is a proof that 
she is not without tenderness. 

Maurice Kossman and wife were in Eome after 
years of work, among its ruins. — 

“ It was just here where I read of Donatello,” 


156 


MAURICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 


remarked Maurice. “I was a kind of Faun my- 
self in character then.” He ceased speaking, and 
fell into a reverie. Alice interrupted it by the 
question, “Were you wishing the old Faun life- 
back Maurice ? ” He turned a look of manly pur- 
pose and peace towards her, and was about to 
speak when two figures came across their way, 
and looking up they saw them to be Alpheus 
Lawrence and his wife. 

There was a short conversation and when it 
was ended and they had passed their separate 
ways, Alice looked up to the restful face above 
hers and said, “ They, too, were meant for each 
other, I think, Maurice.” 


THE END. 




































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